Washing Wounds
by ImGoingToSleep
Summary: Everyone needs someone to wash their wounds, even the ones you can't see. Bad summary, forgive me. ON HIATUS.
1. Elderflower Wine

**Hello gorgeous readers. I've had this idea in my head for some time, so I decided to test myself with it. This follows the books, excluding the Epilogue. It goes without saying that there will be lesbians and maybe a little mature stuff later on. Doesn't tickle your fancy? Please move along. **

**Edit: I've decided to go back and correct some things through all chapters, no major changes though.**

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><p>Fingering the stem of her wineglass, Hermione immersed herself fully in the cosy heat of the fireplace, tattered book held tightly against the invasive buzz of the crowded inn. The Three Broomsticks was proving a popular haven for those who were not revelling in the penetrating chill of the virginal snow and the words on the pages were drowning under the assault of loud, obnoxious voices. A sip of the elderflower wine settled elegantly on her tongue, but did not succeed in quenching the rising resentment Hermione felt at being drawn away from the comforting seclusion the novel was trying to offer her.<p>

The War was over, but pain still washed over even the most basic of routines. All of the returning 'Eighth Years' stalked the passageways of Hogwarts as if it were no longer the upstanding pillar of magical morality it was renowned for, flinching at the slightest of shadows whenever traversing the many corridors alone. Slowly, the wounds were healing. But for now, the only comforts Hermione could indulge in were her faithful friends: books and a ready supply of elderflower wine.

A gush of wind relayed a twinge of sharp cold up Hermione's spine as the door to the inn crashed open, a ramble of students galloping through it as if escaping an icy behemoth. Scowl tainting her dry lips, she forced another gulp of wine as the words on the pages merely swam before her in a toiling sea of incoherency. She sighed longingly, both for the loss of her scripted sanctuary and for her now empty glass. With no other choice, Hermione closed her book, clutching it protectively to her chest as she allowed her weary eyes to reveal in the scene around her, blinking to paint a sharper picture.

Students circled tables in groups, vultures tearing apart the multitude of gossip circulating the school. None of it appealed to Hermione. The repetitive clinking of glasses and mugs put her on edge, made her grate her teeth in a fashion that would have brought the full disapproval of her parents upon her, the crescendo of voices thundering down to invade the private walls she had drawn around her like a comfort blanket. She'd never liked crowds much, always preferring the solace of sinking into the background, where knowledge and not popularity was power.

Getting to her feet, she strode towards the bar. The seat behind her was instantly claimed by a couple of Fifth Years, their limbs tangled together in a battle of teenage fumbling. Hermione rolled her eyes, clicking her tongue in annoyance as she was forced to squeeze in between two pubescent boys. It briefly occurred to her to hex one of them for allowing his hand to stray too close to her person, yet she merely renewed her journey with vigour when her thoughts crystallised around the prospect of another glass of wine.

Madam Rosmerta smothered her in a warm look, handing her another glass wordlessly with a wink, a merry twinkle in her mossy green eyes. A blush heated the tip of her nose and Hermione had to look away, draining her glass in one short breath. However, this was not before she caught a glimpse of the mature woman's fairly impressive and ample cleavage. Resting her head in her hands, she followed the grains in bar's darkened wood whilst suppressing the uncomfortable stirrings in the pit of her stomach.

Hermione was a lesbian. She'd finally worked that out now, after a few unsuccessful 'fumbles' but it was still a struggle to accept it all. The internalised homophobia had deepened over the past few weeks; she'd worked herself into the ground to forget it all: taking her roles as Head Girl too seriously, going on rounds around the castle when it was clear it is unnecessary. Even the library was too static, too quiet, nowadays. Hermione possessed the obsessive need to understand everything, but this was something she couldn't fully control and she hated that... All this moping was extremely unwanted.

A scuttling of snow crusaded across the inn floor, hailing the door opening yet again. Vague curiosity made Hermione flick her head that way, curling a stray hair around her finger and back in to place. She ran her finger slowly over her reddened cheeks as the trio who had just entered the Three Broomsticks made themselves known and she felt her eyes moisten at the revelation.

Ron stepped into the middle of the room, making straight for a table that had just become available, his ginger hair slicked to his head as if the snow had melted from the furious heat it implied. Once seated, he quickly pulled a gangly Sixth Year onto his lap, proceeding to assault her throat by angrily thrusting his tongue down there. Not that the girl seemed to mind though, as she none too discreetly slid her hand down the front of his jeans.

Disgusted, Hermione brought her eye up to meet Harry's. He wore an uncomfortable mask that screamed out his position as a third wheel, as well as his reluctant celebrity status, and he smiled sadly at her. He looked as awful as she felt: obviously the nightmares were still plaguing his sleeping hours. When she started to rise, he flicked his eyes to Ron and shook his head, pain evident in his grimace. But she understood. Being torn between the two of them was putting so much pressure on him, pressure he thought he had been rid of with the downfall of Voldemort. She didn't want to make things worse.

Pulling her coat tighter around her, Hermione fled from the shelter of the Three Broomsticks and threw herself into the snowstorm outside. Snow licked her face, conveniently hiding the tears that cut down her cheeks like daggers of ice. The loss of Ron as her friend had knocked the wind from her, although maybe she should have expected it after how long he had secretly pined for her. But she knew the very first time she kissed him, that she was most definitely gay. Perhaps she shouldn't have immediately relayed that fact to him... Now it just seemed like he was doing everything in his power to hurt her and cut her out of his life.

_Well, at least he hasn't outed me_, Hermione mused, shaking her head clear of the problem that weighed her down. She looked about her, admiring the postcard perfect scene that Hogsmeade presented. The snow swirled about her ankles as mischievous puppies might, vying for the affection of their owners. A blue tint to the haze dazzled her in the afternoon sun and she was glad to be returning to the comfort of her bed. In her inevitable position of Head Girl, she was permitted the luxury of her own quarters. Nothing fancy, but it was her home now and it never failed to permit her the solace she so often needed.

Harsh shouts came from her left, an alleyway denied clarity by the heavy snowfall. Hand instantly seeking her wand, Hermione muttered a quick spell that cleared her head of the vestiges of her wine-induced headache. Prowling to the edge of the alley, her body still primed for stealth from the hunt for the Horcruxes, she tried to peer through the flurry, heart thumping in her chest. It was narrow; she wondered briefly if she could reach both walls with the tips of her fingers.

Blue light crackled in front of her, giving the snow the ability snap her vision into a pure white screen for an instant. She stumbled forwards, irately blinking away the flakes of ice that crowded her eyelashes. Harsh barks preceded the sound of retreating footsteps and she rushed forwards as she noticed a vague outline slumped in the centre of the alley. It looked like a rubbish pile, with fire spewing from the tip in bedraggled waves. On closer inspection: it was Ginny.

"M...Mione?" the whimper drew a sob from Hermione's cold stung lips, anguish flaring up inside her at the weakened girl weeping below her. A hint of a bruise had crept up her face, cuts scarred her brow and lip.

"Ginny? What happened? Are you okay? Are you hurt? Can I help?" a turbulent stream of concern spewed from her as she gripped Ginny's hand tightly in her own and she was uncertain whose hand it was that was trembling the most. "I'll take you to the Hospital Wing."

Fear spiked into the girl's eyes, conflict dulling the usually vivacious brown orbs. Groans tumbling from her cracked lips, a cut with congealing blood in the right corner, Ginny pushed herself up into a crouching position. Hurrying to support her, Hermione linked an arm around her waist as she stood but a sudden gust of hail sent them both crashing against the stone wall, their bodies seemingly fusing with the shock.

Hermione found she couldn't speak. All she could do was inhale the cloud of breath rushing from Ginny's mouth, a warm tang rolling along her tongue and caressing the back of her throat. Stars waltzed before her eyes... no, wait, they were freckles, scattered freely over the younger girl's nose and cheeks like dancing leaves in the autumn, momentarily disguising the angry welt that marred her otherwise flawless skin. Her hands were splayed at Ginny's sides, feeling heat through those baggy clothes despite the bitter cold.

"No. I just... I just want to go to bed." Her voice rasped in the manner one does after a sobbing session, the kind where raw emotion scrubs your throat with brutal sandpaper, unable to look up into the scholarly brunette's anxious, hazel eyes. Hermione opened her mouth to argue, but the words were swallowed up by another lash of arctic air whipping her cheeks.

Besides, she had started hobbling away, pulling out of her reach, a queer disappointment catching Hermione off guard. When Ginny stooped down, she couldn't help but stare at her, the snowflakes quivering in her hair, failing to douse the flames that so encapsulated everything about her. Her body curved in a perfect arc, her slender frame crafted through brutally hard Quidditch practice. And her pert behind... well just expanded Hermione's imagination quite considerably.

Hermione had to viciously shake her head to clear her mind. _Must be the wine_, she lectured to herself, ignoring the matter-of-fact voice in the back of her mind that was vehemently trying to remind her of the spell she'd cast earlier. Clenching her fists, she finally realised what Ginny was doing. Hooked in her stiff fingers was the book she had discarded earlier in her fumbling to grasp her wand. She brushed the snow from the damp cover, but before she could properly look, Hermione had snatched it from her.

"Come on, let's get you in the warm." She garbled, tucking her copy of _Tipping the Velvet_ firmly inside her coat. With a confused shrug, Ginny started walking away, a slightly flustered Hermione following silently after, a hand on the redhead's back, which she told herself was to support her should she fall. "And I know I could do with a drink."

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><p><strong>Reviews will be treasured.<strong>

**~ Nib.**


	2. Escape

Water lapped rhythmically at supple limbs, warmth enveloping her naked flesh in an intimate embrace, curls of a lavender scent carried within the rising spirals of steam. Hermione caressed her neck with a cream flannel, cleansing the dirty poisons from her pale body, scrubbing at her now flushed skin with meticulous concentration. Her hair had already been dutifully washed using an expensive shampoo. Eventually she was satisfied; the raw winter chill had finally seeped from her bones, drowning along beside all the day's cares.

A light smile brushed on her pink lips, Hermione rose from the bath, water cascading from her young body in an epic journey. It rippled down the groove between her breasts, small rivulets escaping off the hard peaks of her nipples, before gliding over her stomach to dive between creamy thighs. Hermione watched, fascinated, inspecting the reflection in a clouded mirror and wrapped herself in the softest towel. It clung to her damp skin as she stepped carefully out on to the stone floor. With the cold nipping at her exposed flesh, Hermione hurried to towel herself dry.

When she was content, she snatched her dressing gown from its hook, relaxing into its downy snugness. Crossing into the next room, where a fire was smouldering low in the hearth, Hermione sank into her armchair. After pouring herself a small glass of wine, she rested her fingers on the spine of the nearest book, tracing them up to velvet edges of the pages as she considered a late night read.

But her body had another plan, as the hypnotic flames slowly lulled her senses close to sleep. Sipping on her wine, she was more and more ensnared by power. Her last thought before succumbing to dreamy slumber flicked back to earlier, to her trek back to Hogwarts... to Ginny.

_They find the Entrance Hall deserted on arrival, the greyish tinge of dusk licking at the stone floor, hinting that everyone was either still in Hogsmeade or huddled up in their common rooms. Moistening her sore lips, she stops for a moment to catch her breath, causing the young girl she is supporting to slip into the crook of her neck. Loose strands of red hair creep under her coat, sensuously burning along her collarbone. Stifling a whimper, she forces herself to push Ginny away._

"_Hermione..." it comes out as a whisper from Ginny's lips, but intensifies as it bounces off the walls around them. "You don't need to do this."_

"_Do what?" Hermione asks, the tang of wine mixing with anxiety on her tongue, her curiosity genuinely piqued. But all she receives in reply is an indifferent shrug, the redhead losing her nerve as she retreats towards the stairs, turning her back on the concern. However, beginning to ascend the steps she lets slip a single word, nearly imperceptible to Hermione:_ care.

_They walk wordlessly, heading for the Gryffindor common room. She watches as the younger girl presses her arms against her stomach, as though Ginny is trying to hold all the pieces of her fragile frame together. Dashing forwards to catch up with her, Hermione grasps her arm, pulling her to a stop. She lays her free hand tenderly on that bruised cheek, careful not to agitate the sensitive flesh, and tries to find something comforting to say. But nothing comes out._

_Instead she urges 'Let's see if Madam Pomfrey can clean up your lip?', heart sinking when she sees the pain-tinged anger draw a mask over Ginny's stunning features. She struggles in the older girl's grip, yanking her arm lose. Unfortunately in doing so, her worn jacket, a typical Weasley hand-me-down, rips to unveil a surprise that brings forth a choked sob from Hermione._

_Ginny's arm is a patchwork of bruising, black and blue marks knitted together to vaguely resemble a handprint. A paralysis is cast over them both as the lingering silence hosts the thousands of paranoid questions screaming from Hermione's brain, unbidden fear in those brown orbs the only thing preventing her from voicing them aloud. Tears rolling over her freckled cheeks, she takes a step to the younger girl, who shrinks away._

"_Just leave me alone!" the scream strikes deep into Hermione's heart, rejection a harsh poison injecting hurt into her veins. More, the image that Ginny's fleeing figure cuts jolts her in to the realisation she feels so alone..._

Hermione plummeted out of that sleepy repose, jolted back into the shadows of midnight. It crushed her senses and a shroud of confusion constricted any coherent thought, all caused by an irrational panic stemming from her childhood that she had gone blind. Getting to her feet and blinking rapidly, the loneliness from the dream was still lodged firmly in her pounding heart.

But then, like in a fairy tale, the clouds slinked away from the moon, and the embers of the fire were just enough to give shaped to the things around her. A gasp of relief settling her nerves, she stretched her fingers out into the room, feeling her way to her bed. Stripping off her gown, Hermione fell in to its welcoming comfort, the silken sheets she had bought for herself kneading her bare body in luxury.

With the rays of the moon soothing her into sleep once again, she dreamed no more.

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><p>Peach clouds rolled over the tall tips of the Forbidden Forest, trees groaning in the Sunday morning breeze as the rising sun simmered against the heavy snow piled atop their branches. Its metallic rays skimmed against the frozen lake, concealing the murky black depths below with a glistening and golden sheet encrusted with the harsh winter frost. The early hush that dwelled alongside sunrise was punctuated by the short singsong of a daring young bird, and it was this that greeted Hermione as she opened her eyes. Rubbing the fuzzy sleep from the drops of hazel that were her eyes, she looked out over the grounds, at the snow beginning to graze gently at the window. A morning like this was one to be treasured, stored away fondly in the vaults of the mind.<p>

Hermione pondered returning to sleep, to capture and retain the memory of this beautiful moment, but she couldn't fool herself into ignoring the demands of her growling stomach. Ascending to her feet with surprising grace having just awoke, she took her time pulling on her clothes, just jeans and a white t-shirt under her robes. Her silver Head Girl badge she left on her desk, a solemn reminder of responsibility she didn't need at the moment.

Wandering languorously, she ultimately reached the Great Hall. A lack of the scraping of cutlery and voices being less than a multitude signified she'd arrived before the main horde of ravenous teens. For this Hermione was grateful, receiving only the minimum of glances as she settled herself in the middle of the Gryffindor table, away from the few of her peers seated at various other places at the four tables.

Immersing herself in _Tipping the Velvet_ whilst nibbling on a heavily buttered slice of toast, Hermione failed to notice a commotion coming from the Entrance Hall until a figure rushing towards her appeared in her peripheral vision. She paused in raising a mug of black coffee to her lips, eyes wide as an irate Ron stormed straight for her, arms outstretched as if his aim was to throttle her. Free hand gripped around her wand to give her strength, Hermione stared at him icily to conceal the panic rising in her chest.

"Ronald." Her dull monotone was betrayed by a spiteful edge. His Quidditch robes somehow made him an imposing giant and Hermione had to look down, pretending to go back to her reading so she wouldn't give Ron the satisfaction of seeing tears forming in her eyes. Losing her caffeine craving, she had to put down her coffee.

"Leave my sister alone." The statement was clipped, a forced whisper in the silence that had fell upon them. It was if the entire castle was straining to listen to their conversation. Glancing back up, she quirked an eyebrow as a response, not trusting her voice to remain steady. "Don't look at me like that."

"Ronald." She said again in that artificial monotone, crudely enjoying him flinch at the use of his full name "I have no clue what you are on about."

"Don't bullshit me, you bloody argued with her last night. Karl saw you both." Hermione looked behind him, only now seeing a gang of people awkwardly waiting for Ron. She searched out the new Chaser addition to the Gryffindor team, Karl Willow. He had a flop of wavy blonde hair and droopy eyes that made him stand out slightly. But try as she might, she couldn't recall seeing him from last night. She noticed Harry was also standing there, blank look on his face as he stared at the floor. Yet again, a pang of guilt hit her and she just had to leave.

"I still have no idea what you mean, so if you'll excuse me..." Hermione got to her feet, just wanting to run away as fast as possible. Exercising great self-control, she took measured steps, brushing by her former friend as she headed out of the Hall. But as she did, Hermione felt her arm being grabbed roughly and she was twisted around to face Ron. With no hesitation, she pulled out her wand and brought it to the redhead's throat, who's only reaction was to flinch a little.

Still held in place, she looked into the raging ocean of Ron's dark blue eyes, hurt hidden behind the anger in his glare. Then for a moment, his features softened, his grip relaxed, and Hermione suddenly understood why it was there: he still loved her. She felt sorry for him, sorry that she'd never be able to reciprocate. But as she lowered her wand, the pity must have been evident on her face.

"Just stay the hell away from her, dyke." Shouting this as loud as he could, Ron disappeared into the stream of students that had slowly been trickling into the Hall, that now stood awkwardly still as Hermione lingered in the middle of the room, mortified. It felt like every gaze fixed upon her was ravaging her body, devouring her secrets with a childish glee. Her breathing accelerated, escaping her in painful gulps as she tried to shove her way through the questioning crowd, trembling body crashing into others.

Then she was falling through darkness, her name being shouted throughout the void. _Ah_, Hermione thought to herself calmly, _an escape_.

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><p><strong>Reviews will be treasured.<strong>

**~ Nib.**


	3. Quidditch Practice

_I feel tempted by the darkness. It licks at the innocence inside of me, swirling tenderly around my morality. I need to submit to its will..._

_A sliver of light cuts the air, cuts me. Deadened by the allure of the dark, the pain only hits me when it shatters. Faces are brought into coherency and I realise my folly. _

_Whispers, barely more than cruel breaths, taunt me. What are they saying? Mudblood! Again, the light, now affixed to a sharp blade, pierces in to my pale flesh._

_A burst of fire burns away every cowardly trace of the dark, banishing the callous faces from sight. An immensity of protective rage sweeps them completely away._

_The burning angel is a vision of faint beauty, an unexpected champion._

_My smouldering angel, _Ginny.

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><p>Even though her eyes were shut, Hermione knew exactly where she was. Maybe it was the vain attempts of covering the clinical air with a lemony scent, maybe it was the harmony of creaking beds and groaning patients, or maybe even it was the rushed footsteps of Madam Pomfrey as she scurried to attend to every complaint, but it was definitely safe to assume she was in the Hospital Wing.<p>

With the dream instantly banished to the rear vaults in her mind, she allowed her body to settle back into the creaky bed. A warm feeling comforted her body, and the chance to snatch up lost hours of shuteye was vastly tempting. Until she felt a hand grasping her own. Fighting between the succulent temptress of slumber and the rising enemy of curiosity, the Head Girl shifted in, what she thought, was a fair imitation of sleep. She dared to peek at the owner of the hand through a curtain of eyelashes. _Harry._

Hermione rose from her supine position, embracing Harry is as if she would lose him in the depths of his tortured mind if she ever let go. Resting her chin on his trembling shoulder, she drank in the rest of the Hospital Wing and found it suddenly empty, the door to Madam Pomfrey's office firmly shut and the beds abandoned. Something flickered in the passage outside, a streak of fire slipping away from view, but she dismissed it as Harry pulled away from her.

A genuine smile played on her lips, yet faltered when it dawned on her just how gaunt her best friend had become. His green eyes were no longer vibrant with spirit, the shadows dwelling beneath them heavy with the deaths he stubbornly bore sole responsibility for, and his pale visage marred with barely restrained tears. But there was more, an emptiness that Hermione could not fully perceive. A queer pulse in Harry's eyes seemed to relay the sense he did not want her to either.

"You alright?" the joviality in his voice was forced, but Hermione was willing to carry on the illusion with an enthusiastic nod. Slipping round to perch on the end of the bed, they both fell into a deep silence, locked within their own problems. She grappled for something to say, to save Harry from the past slowly consuming his sanity, but the snap of a door and the encroaching presence of Hogwarts' resident Healer snatched away her chance.

"Miss Granger!" the strict old woman swooped down upon her, assessing her with a single glance "Ah... yes, you'll be fine."

"What do you think happened?" Hermione couldn't help but wonder, mind tracing back to the ridiculing faces laughing at her plunge to the floor.

"I suspect that you've been lacking sleep and working too hard, Miss Granger. Nothing out of the usual, although I suggest you take the time to rest." With a final stern glance, Madame Pomfrey swept past her to the other end of the Wing and busied herself with a straightening out one of the beds. Hermione watched the woman restore order to her domain, before realising that Harry was no longer there.

Leaving the Hospital Wing behind her, she considered searching for him, but quickly disabused herself of the notion. Once Harry disappeared, it was pointless in trying to invade his solitude. He would not appreciate her concern, no matter how great it was. So, for once, she decided to listen to that inner voice that always seemed to know that right thing, the one she usually ignored, and focus on her own problems.

As she wandered the passageways of Hogwarts, no destination in mind, Hermione tried to block out the flashbacks glaring in her eyes, a task made difficult by the visible scars on the stone walls. All of a sudden, these veins of the castle began to constrict her and she longed to escape the wounded heart of the school. Without even blinking, she found herself fleeing the choking memories, running down the corridors, stumbling down many stairs until at last she drew to a halt in the snow outside the Entrance Hall.

Released into the freedom of gulping the winter air, Hermione sped through the snow. But as soon as she fell under the shadow of the newly renovated Quidditch stadium, her lungs were divested of breath and she collapsed into the snow. Tears began to fall over her pink tinged cheeks, the painful memories of the War flooding all of her senses, numbed by the freezing grip of the cold.

Voices coming from within the stadium snared her attention, and she gave in, almost eagerly. Hermione wiped the tears away from her cheeks, muttering a quick spell to clear away the tell tale signs of her weeping. Long ago had Hermione given up on the idea that she shouldn't be frivolous with her magic, in using in for menial tasks. Besides, she wasn't one of those women that could cry out in public and still maintain their dignity.

Hermione entered the stadium, climbing up into the stands to place herself on one of the benches. Looking down, she saw figures of red and gold mounting their broomsticks and knew she was viewing the Gryffindor training. Unsure of whether to stay or leave, her gaze travelled over the people below. Ron was standing in the centre of the team, barking orders in an unusually harsh manner for him. Frowning, her eyes affixed to Ginny taking to the air and a faint smile returned to her lips once more.

Every movement was controlled, skilled in a way Hermione truly admired, being so uncomfortable on a broomstick herself. In fact, she was envious of how free Ginny appeared to be. The Quidditch robes clung to her athletic frame, cold not seeming to override her body as she took flight against a harsh gust of air. Tearing across the sky as a lion rips along the ground, the Gryffindor Seeker cut a swift circuit around the stadium, weaving through the hoops at each end. Then, with a sharp whistle from Ron, practice began.

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><p>Even Oliver Wood would have disapproved of how hard Ron rode the team that night, only allowing them to land when a fresh snowfall suddenly turned into a hailstorm. Hermione descended from the stands and hurriedly made her way back to the castle, absently trying to figure out why she had stayed the entire time while evading the obvious answer. Hail plummeted down on her shoulders, adding to the burden of pressure that even seemed to intensify as she crossed indoors.<p>

The hush of voices emanating from the Great Hall repelled her away from any thoughts of dinner with no hesitation. After her public collapse earlier, Hermione would be deemed a tastier morsel of gossip than the plates of food on the tables. Right now, the only company she was willing to have was a nice glass of wine.

"Umm, Hermione?" Ginny's voice was as clear and addicting to the Head Girl as sweet birdsong. Even so, it took her a couple of steps to halt, not confident on whether she should flee or turn to face the girl always teasing the back of her mind. But in the end, the younger girl was a beautifully dishevelled siren, luring her in.

"Hi Ginny. Rough practice?" Hermione nodded her head to indicate her muddy Quidditch robes: a partial attempt to conceal the heat in her face she hoped that was not visible. Unfortunately, it only gave her the excuse to stare at how well it clung to her breasts, showing off her curves.

"You saw, huh?" A roll of eyes was evident in her tone, the older girl didn't have to look up for that. She did however have to look up as a gaggle of First Years barged past them, leaving her feeling a tad relieved as the prolonged admiration was stirring arousal within her.

"Only a bit." She replied, moving away from the stairs to give their conversation an illusion of privacy.

"Sure. That's why you were there the whole session." That trademark oh-so-smug grin pulsed cockily through Ginny's voice, and heightened the intensity growing at the apex of her now shaking legs.

"I-I- How are you anyway?" The change of subject seemed to work, to Hermione's utter relief. Although not the exact relief she craved at this precise moment...

"I ache like a bitch, to be fair. But I hope it's nothing a warm bath won't fix." An awkward moment passed as Ginny pondered how to phrase her next question "How about you? I umm heard about earlier."

"Oh, it was nothing. Madame Pomfrey said I've been working too hard." Something clicked in Hermione's mind, as she remembered how she had been rudely abandoned earlier "I don't suppose you've seen Harry?"

"N-No. Why?" Something in the young girl's demeanour alerted Hermione, from how she clutched her sides at the mention of Harry, the smirk falling from that pretty face. She watched as her hand travelled up her opposite arm, to where she had witnessed the bruises.

"He just disappeared on me while I was in the Hospital Wing. I assumed you see him, since he's your... you know."

"You mean my boyfriend?" The word shot an unexpected volt through Hermione, a jealousy coursing through her like the venom with which she found herself responding.

"Yes."

"Well then, no." Finding herself in a conflict with her emotions, the brunette was perturbed on how that pleased her. It was wrong, Ginny was her friend and so was Harry. She needed to remember that, not let these infantile fantasies interfere any longer.

"Are things okay with you two?"

"Could be better. Look Hermione, as much as I love talking to you while I'm dripping wet, I really want to get out of these clothes..."

"Oh, I'm sorry." _No you're not_, her inner voice told her.

"S'okay, see you tomorrow? I need to give you something." With that, Ginny swept past her, taking the stairs two at a time.

_So much for forgetting those fantasies now_, thought Hermione as she gave a feeble wave farewell to Ginny's behind.

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><p><strong>Reviews will be treasured.<strong>

**~ Nib.**


	4. Nightime Visit

**Maybe a little warning is needed for some _feelings_ at the end of the chapter.**

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><p>As black ink dried onto pristine parchment before her, Hermione ran a moist tongue over soft lips as she curled them upwards to form a contented smile. Her entire body hummed with the sense of triumph. Yet again, the arduous villainy of an Arithmancy essay had been tamed under the deft scribbling of her intellect. She lay down her weapon of choice, a well-used quill, and flexed fingers that were still cramped from its use.<p>

Muffled silence comforted the Head Girl in a blanketed illusion of cosy safety, one that only the sanctuary of being surrounded by ages of magical literature gave her. Midnight was steadily ticking closer and it was only by the grace of Madam Pince that she was allowed to revel in having the library to herself so deep into the night hours. Allowing a sigh to escape into the quiet air, Hermione tucked the defeated essay into her bag and started away through the many bookcases. The echoing footsteps she produced put her nerves on edge somewhat, but with her fingertips lightly tracing the grooves of her wand, her confidence didn't waver.

Hermione arrived at her quarters, delighted by a swift journey with none of the usual daytime hindrances snapping at the hem of her robes. Still, as she felt the safety of her room beckoning, a held breath released itself from within her chest, almost wrenching her forward with the relief that flooded over her. She rested her head against the familiar wooden door, disgusted the poisonous terror remaining from the Dark Lord's reign had not been purged fully from her mind. Temper bristling at the inward reproach, Hermione reached out for the doorknob.

A noise flitted up the stairs and spiked along her spine. Wand lashed out in an instant, the brunette retreated into the shadows that obscured her from the landing. Haunting memories sharp as nightmares played over her vision. The sharp gleam of a knife threatened to reduce her to tears. A streak of fire crept onto the landing and consumed the fright that had seized Hermione. It seemed that Ginny had come to rescue her once more.

The youngest Weasley stood uncertainly on the threshold of her room, a bundle tucked tightly under one arm. Twice, she raised a fist to rap upon the door but it faltered both times. Hermione couldn't help but revel in this most unexpected glimpse underneath Ginny's cool defences. In the midst of the third attempt, a casual flick of her wand nudged the door open.

"_Come in._" Hermione practically purred as she prowled away from the gloom, a grin stolen from Carroll's Cheshire Cat merrily spreading over her face at seeing Ginny stumble through her door. An unexpected twinkle of laughter pealed from her lips, audibly clashing with the harsh curse that sprung from the redhead as she jolted with surprise "Ginevra Weasley! Language!"

"Oh shut up, _mum_." the flustered, young Gryffindor attempted to scowl but it failed as her anger succumbed to shaky laughter. Hermione shut the door behind her, pressing her back against the solid oak and watching as the other girl ran her gaze around her room. Once again, she found herself unable to look away and her hastily erected, confident exterior began to crumble.

The fire had fizzled into life as the door had opened but Hermione shivered nonetheless. She dropped her bag down and rubbed her arms, shaking her head to snap out of the spell she found herself drowning in. Pushing off from the door with a frown, she pulled a few clothes from off of her armchair and tucked them back neatly into the correct drawers. More than anything, it kept her hands busy and the satisfaction of a little tidying was a short distraction.

"Make yourself comfortable." Hermione weakly waved her arm in the direction of the armchair as Ginny finished her inspection of the room and turned around to face her. The power of the radiant smile thrown her way stabbed into the pit of her stomach and she bit her lip harder than necessary in an attempt to stem the thoughts threatening to break free. Breaking their gaze in order to stare at the floor, Hermione perched on the side of her bed and slipped off her shoes. When she looked up again, Ginny had curled up on her armchair, legs tucked underneath her as she resumed looking around the room as if in a hunt for some hidden treasure.

"Ah, so that's where you've been." Ginny grinned as Hermione pulled her essay out of her bag, placing it on top of a neat stack of work already piled on her desk "The library. I should have known to look there first."

"You've been looking for me?" arching her brow, Hermione straightened the stack of papers and lined them straight in the corner. She didn't dare look back at the younger Gryffindor with the way her heart was beating, afraid that all the emotions swirling there, dangerous and unwanted, would be transparent in her eyes. The voice inside her mind was screaming, similar to the scathing pitch of Mrs Black's portrait back in Grimmauld Place, reminding her of all the cracks in the perfection she couldn't help but strain to achieve.

"'Mione?" Hermione almost tore out of her skin as a tentative touch on her palm brought her out of the rapidly approaching panic attack. Concern laced throughout the broken whisper uttered from Ginny's lips once again offered her a lifeline and pulled her out of her darkening thoughts. For the first time, she noticed that the Ginny was sat on the bed beside her and had placed her hand on top of her own.

"Sorry, I guess I zoned out for a bit." Hermione smiled, hoping it didn't look as feeble as it felt. Ginny tucked a lock of hair back behind her ear, squeezing her hand, and laughed quietly "So, what did you need me for?"

"I wanted to give you this back. You dropped it this morning, when you, well you know." Ginny allowed her voice to trail off as she handed out a book to her. Cocking her head to read the spine, Hermione's eyes widened when she recognised the cover. She had completely forgotten about her copy of _Tipping the Velvet_, with all that had happened earlier.

"Umm, thanks." Hermione felt her cheeks burn as she grabbed the book, swiftly sliding it under her pillow as she shuffled back away from Ginny. Pushing aside all the fearful thoughts, she tried to find something to say, to change the subject. Deep in her heart, Hermione knew the way she reacting was possibly juvenile and definitely over the top but the barb of Ron's rejection was still so fresh in her thoughts. Reaching for her wand, she transfigured two glasses and a bottle of wine she knew was a favourite of her parents.

"You know, it still amazes me just how skilled at magic you are." Ginny grinned as she took the offered glass, then looked down at her hands as she chewed on a question that was looking to escape from her lips. The older witch glanced at their softness for only a moment, jolting her gaze back up to these startling eyes when she spoke again "Can I ask you something?"

"Always." she said it without hesitation, blinking with the realisation that she would be unable to lie to whatever Ginny had to ask.

"Is something going on with you and my brother?" Ginny mumbled before taking a sip of the wine and Hermione allowed the question to sink in, watching as a pink tongue darted out from between two lips in order to lightly trace them.

"What do you mean?" she couldn't figure out what to say, what Ginny wanted to know. She couldn't tell the youngest Weasley that her brother had been the first and last man she ever wanted to kiss without having to explain why. Not telling her, on the other hand, felt like a lie. Not for the first time in her life, Hermione had no idea what to do in this situation, no rule or piece of knowledge of how she should act. the hatred of not knowing something burned.

"Well, you haven't been hanging around with the guys lately. Ron's just grunted whenever I asked about you and Harry…" Ginny pursed her lips then took another gulp of her drink before continuing "Harry's not said a word either. Has something happened?"

"You know Ron, he can just be a bit difficult at times. And Harry, well, he just doesn't like being in the middle of our arguments. Why'd you ask?" Hermione refilled her glass, frowning as Ginny absently rubbed her arm. The one that she had seen the bruises on. Ginny must have caught her looking as she swiftly moved to tuck a stray hair behind her ear once again before rubbing the back of her neck.

"It's just that…" once again, Ginny paused, conflict scrunching up her features as a debate over words took over her mind for a moment. Hermione watched as it played over her face fleeting then was washed away with a small laugh "Never mind. Just wanted to know if the three of you are going to be alright at Christmas."

"Christmas?"

"Yeah. I'm guessing from the blank look, my darling brother forgot say that Mum has invited you over for the holidays." Ginny placed her glass on the side, shaking her head when Hermione offered to refill it.

"He never said anything." Hermione muttered as she filled up her own glass again. She realised that she hadn't even thought on what she would do during the Christmas holidays. Her parents wouldn't allow her back in their house, as the last time she'd been with them was to restore their memories. She had been delighted it had been successful. Her parents weren't so happy. Hermione had returned to Hogwarts on less than amicable terms with them.

"You will come though, right? I don't think I could enjoy Christmas without you- I mean, being the only girl other there. Apart from Fleur, I mean. Oh, and Percy's new girlfriend." Ginny shook her head as she blushed and Hermione had to laugh, her heart swelling at the thought that Ginny wanted her there. Then her face fell, picking up her empty glass and holding it out to Hermione "We're going to have a memorial for Fred. And Lupin and Tonks. Well, for everyone."

"Of course I'll be there." Hermione licked her lips as she reached out for Ginny's hand, squeezing it. The next few moments passed in silence, both of them finishing off their drinks and thinking of lost loved ones. Ginny was the one to break it, draining her glass and placing it down as she got to her feet.

"I better be going if I want to slip past all the prefects." Wringing her hands, the younger witch turned and started towards the door. Before she could stop herself, Hermione got to her feet .

"You can stay here for the night, if you'd like?" Hermione gulped as soon as she let the words slip from her mouth, crouching back down to sit on the bed once again. If she was quick, she could blame it on the wine-

"Sure. You got any night clothes that I could borrow?" Looking up, Ginny was smiling in a way that made her head spin more than any amount of alcohol could ever do. Hermione nodded without a word, summoning a pair of pyjamas from Ginny's dorm without even thinking "Merlin's beard, 'Mione. You know, you're scary sometimes. Brilliant, but scary."

"Your brother once said the exact same thing to me once." Hermione grinned as Ginny laughed, jumping back on the bed beside Hermione. The compliment sounded much better coming from those lips. Those goddamn beautiful lips that are going to be in her room all night.

"Well, I guess he's right about some things then." Sitting up, Ginny started to tuck her hands under her shirt. Hermione turned her head, but not before getting a good glimpse at the taut and creamy expanse of skin hidden underneath. Her fingers itched with the desire to touch it, to feel muscles writhing under her insistent caress. She made a quick excuse, grabbing up an old pair of pyjamas as she hurried into the bathroom.

Sinking down against the cool porcelain of her bathtub, Hermione tried to soothe the two emotions tormenting her. One, the warring worry that her feelings for the woman the other side of the door were becoming more and more obvious in her struggle to conceal them. Two, the gnawing arousal that was stoking up the heat ever higher in the apex of her legs. Running her hand down to that exact spot, Hermione could think of nothing beyond the fact that Ginny was in her bed.

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><p><strong>Reviews will be treasured.<strong>

**~ Nib.**


	5. Library Hideaway

Days flew by after that night; a rapidly spinning calendar that brought Christmas looming ever closer with each frantic day that passed. Yet Hermione felt a joy that had eluded her for such a long time. A spring returned to her step, fervour to her studies which yielded ever so exquisitely under the unrelenting force of her knowledge. Most importantly, she found herself in Ginny's company more and more. The force of her feelings still simmered under every inch of her skin but they had reined in enough for her not to freak out whenever the other girl was near.

A daily routine emerged that gave a structure which she now realised she needed. Mornings would be spent in her rooms, tea and toast brought up to her by grateful house elves that refused any sort of payment for their kindness. Then lessons would start and whole reams of parchment would be consumed in her Herculean task of recording all the information she fought to acquire. Her free periods were either used to rewrite these vast scribblings into something more coherent and color-coded or to performing her duty as Head Girl and patrolling the corridors.

Evenings were special, something she used to fuel getting through her day. For evenings were spent with Ginny. It didn't matter what they did, usually studying together, finishing off homework, or taking long walks that left them shivering and walking in the dark as they realised they'd lost track of time. More often than not, Ginny would stay the night, even beginning to leave spare sets of clothes there out of convenience.

All in all, Hermione was happy and Hogwarts had once again become her home. She was currently in the heart of her home, the library. It had become even more so after the treatment Madam Pince had started to give her. A corner of the Restricted Section had been given to her, her own secluded desk covered in the multiple books that only she had access to. She was even allowed to have a minor amount of food and drink in here, as long as she let the hawkish librarian know so she could carefully inspect each to page to see that it had been left in pristine condition.

Hermione regularly retreated here now, especially when things threatened to get on top of her once again. At the moment she was spending her Saturday morning devouring a tome on wandless and wordless magic, one of the many areas that she found she herself could improve on. Besides, the study really was quite fascinating. A warm flask of hot chocolate was on the desk, which she used to ward off the chill that sometimes swept through the shelves, and her fingers had already begun to blacken with the hasty notes she was making.

To her right, a pile of books were perilously stacked on the floor, left there after a casual enquiry to Madam Pince resulted in the woman digging out a multitude of books for her. If she had been more astute, Hermione would have suspected that the older woman had more than scholarly respect for her. But, as it was, the Bloody Baron could have floated around in front of her completely naked and she wouldn't notice.

Which is probably why she nearly stacked her chair over when a voice seemingly boomed in front of her.

"Ah, Miss Granger. Irma said you'd be hidden away here." The painful hammering in her chest calmed somewhat upon seeing the source of the voice.

Professor McGonagall had not changed at all since the first glimpse Hermione had seen of her since getting off the boat on her first day at Hogwarts, bar a few deeper wrinkles. She still had that elegance about her that mixed in with her naturally stern brow that made student sit up straighter, although the look on her face always relaxed somewhat whenever the two spoke together alone.

"Would you mind if I sat?" The now Headmistress of Hogwarts drew her emerald robes tighter around herself and gestured to the other chair at Hermione's desk.

"Of course not, Professor." A grateful smile adorned those thin lips, which Hermione had to duck her head to stop staring at. Strong memories of her younger schoolgirl crush on the older teacher surfaced unwelcome, but she managed to swipe them away with a shake at her head. She now had nothing more than a vast respect for the Professor and felt incredibly at ease with her.

"Miss Granger, I think that enough has gone by to allow us to drop the title. Please, call me Minerva." Hermione struggled to picture the older woman as anything other than her teacher, but the implication that McGonagall thought more of her than one of her students brought a grin to her face.

"I shall. If you call me Hermione, that is." They both chuckled. Hermione closed the book she was reading, tucking her notes into the part was she currently reading. McGonagall quirked her head to look at the spine of the book, arching her brow as she did so before shaking her head with a kind laugh.

"I should no longer be surprised to find you studying at far more advanced, yet you constantly do. Which leads me to why I've sought you out." McGonagall leant back in her chair, folding her fingers in her lap "As you know, you will be taking your N.E. just after the Christmas break. Have you any plans for afterwards?"

"I haven't really thought about it." Which was a lie. In the moments off that she allowed herself, the issue had tumbled around in her mind like dice that refused to land on a number. Hermione had focused so much on getting to this point, the aftermath remained a wasteland with only a scattering of feeble ideas.

"How would you like to remain at Hogwarts, in a teaching position?" Hermione floundered for a moment, the proposition stunning her momentarily "You don't have to make the decision now, of course. I merely wanted to inform you that the position is there if you want it."

"In what subject?" her mind still reeling, Hermione picked up her quill for something to fiddle with as she tried to figure out how she felt about this.

"We will be having a reshuffle of staff at the end of the year, there would be a few vacancies available to you." McGonagall allowed herself a small and sad smile "The… stresses of the last few years have made some of the staff reconsider what they would still like to do. So, a few will be leaving. At the moment, I am looking to employ for Defence Against The Dark Arts, Potions, Herbology and Transfiguration."

"But I'm so young, unqualified." Her voice trembled as Hermione's argument sounded weak even to her own ears.

"And have the knowledge and experience at a level that is on par with most of the current professors. With time, I would have every bit of faith in your ability to be a most excellent teacher." Looking back up into McGonagall's eyes, she could detect no hint of mocking but a warmth that reflected that this was what she truly believed "Just think on it, you have time, m'dear. Now, will you watching the Quidditch this afternoon? Gryffindor versus Slytherin. Always an eventful game."

"I've already promised Ginny that I would. She's talked about nothing else for the last month." Hermione frowned. She would have preferred to stay in her hideaway, especially now she had this to dwell on. Quidditch had never grown on her, the only reason for her attending the recent games being for her to support her friends and to see Ginny in her element. The way she flew, as sharp as a bird, with the fury of a dragon, made her muscles tense and flex in a way that was only replicated in Hermione's most secret of dreams.

"I anticipated you would. Would you mind delivering these letters for me?" McGonagall turned her hand over a bundle of letters appeared in her hand "I was going to put them into the morning post, but this would be more convenient."

Hermione took the letters from her, laying them out carefully on the desk in front of her one at a time. Three names scrawled on the fronts of the envelopes in tidily looping black ink stood out especially to her. Ginny, Harry and…

"I'm sorry, Professor-" McGonagall halted in getting up from her chair to hold out her hand, her face sharpening instantly to fix her with a full-on teacher's glare.

"Minerva." Hermione smiled shakily, nodding her head as she moved to stand as well.

"Minerva. Sorry. I can do the others but I won't be able to give this one out." McGonagall glanced at the name on the envelope and quirked her brow, clearly trying to decide whether to ask why. Hermione decided to confide in the older witch "Ron and I no longer see eye to eye about certain things. It's better if we don't… associate at the moment."

"I must admit, even I have noticed the three of you are not as close. May I ask what happened?" McGonagall , pushed the chair under the desk.

"He believed I felt more for him than I do. He is like a brother to me and I know that I will never want the sort of relationship he still believes he wants with me." McGonagall squeezed her shoulder and smiled sympathetically.

"I'm sure that one of his teammates could pass it along. And Ronald will come around. He is merely a wee bit stubborn. He is a Weasley, after all." They both laughed at that as she added the letter back to the pile. McGonagall bid her goodbye, saying that she'd see her later at the Quidditch game.

Hermione sank back down into her chair, drumming her fingers lightly on the table. McGonagall's offer had genuinely thrown her; her own knowledge must be nowhere near the parallel of such a brilliant witch. Yet the current Headmistress obviously thought that she could easily fit the role. For a moment she paused in tucking away her quill, twirling it in her fingers, and dreamt of the life she could make for herself here. She ran the tip of the feather over her lips as she smiled, then started again to pack away her things.

She left the books that had been under her care neatly stacked on a trolley that Madam Pince had provided her. The librarian would look over the books later, coveting them closely as she checked for any errant crumbs or stains. Hermione caught no sight of the usually vulture-like woman as she tucked her bag over her shoulder, heading out of the library and picking up the pace a little. She needed to drop off her stuff and before heading on down to watch Ginny.

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><p><strong>Reviews will be treasured.<strong>

**~ Nib.**


	6. Quidditch Match

"_WEASLEY SCORES AGAIN!"_

The lion of Gryffindor snarled its jaw open wide, its roar splitting the earth asunder, its grand mane undulating in the wind as the wild strands of red leapt to their feet. Every figure not clad in emerald tore open the sky with their own unique brand of celebration. Hermione was one such figure lending her voice to the cacophony, yet her cheer was devoted solely to the lashing of flame whipping her way around the stadium in a lap of triumph. Ginny was dominating the game, her focus unbroken and unrelenting in her position as Chaser.

"_THAT BRINGS THE SCORE NOW TO ONE HUNDRED AND THIRY POINTS TO GRYFFINDOR, TO SLYTHERIN'S FORTY."_

Only when voices threatened to become painfully hoarse, did most of the Gryffindors retake their seats and once again Hermione found herself nestled against Luna Lovegood. Adorned in her now customary lion hat, the blonde started to attribute the team's success to some creature that was obviously non-existent. Or so Hermione thought as she nodded graciously, only half listening as she returned to the book she'd brought down to the match with her. Noticing her audience was less than willing, Luna seamlessly switched over to the commentary she was providing for Hermione.

"_A DISGUSTING FOUL BY SLYTHERIN! PENALTY TO BE TAKEN BY WILLOWS."_

As much as she wanted to support Ginny, Hermione needed to catch up with her advanced reading, especially after the conversation she'd had with McGonagall that was still playing itself over in her mind. Yet the words blurred on the page in front of her avoiding her memory in a slippery dance, and the tendrils of her attention zoned in on Luna as her friend gave another, rather detailed, commentary of Ginny's performance. Hermione tried to stem the blush rising on her face by squeezing her eyes shut tight as Luna commented on the girl's stamina.

"_SLYTHERIN ARE HEADING FOR THE POSTS. BUT WEASLEY, THE CAPTAIN, BLOCKS IT, SENDS IT STRAIGHT BACK OUT TO WEASLEY."_

Exasperated by her weakness to such thoughts, Hermione snatched the binoculars, as politely as possible, from Luna. She wilfully ignored that queer smile that Luna graced her lips with, the knowing glint in her eye, before pinpointing in on the game with a determination that she had never before given to Quidditch. It briefly flitted across her mind that she hadn't seen Harry move from the position he had chosen at the start of the match and, looking at him, his face appeared twisted in pain. Frowning, Hermione lowered her gaze slowly as she felt a jab of guilt start to tear her open.

Mind momentarily stuck on Harry, she raised the binoculars once more to this time search Ginny out. The Chaser was currently trying to lose a trio of desperate Slytherins latched onto her tail, pulling up swiftly and flying back around beneath them in a stunning display that left the three opponents crashing into one another in their hurry to react. Hermione could just imagine the tight muscles at work underneath those robes that were slick against her body, a light layer of sweat covering those limbs as she worked them even harder…

This time she almost dropped the binoculars, the boulders of too many thoughts crashing around in her head, threatening to split open and render her dumbstruck. Hermione practically three them back to Luna and dipped her head, struggling to calm the heart pounding frantically in that familiar rhythm she had been doing her best to suppress. _Pathetic_, she bitterly cursed herself as she shook her head, endeavouring to stem the spiralling train of thought she had come to know so well.

"Hermione?" Luna's soft voice cut through the turbulence of the crowd, the press of her fingers on the back of her hand making Hermione jolt upright with a shaky smile "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, thank you very much." Hermione bit her lip, wincing as her acerbic words fell from her tongue. Luna revealed no sign of noticing the retort, merely continuing to stare pointedly as if in rapt contemplation of a deep mystery that was to be found through her eyes but kept eluding her. The Ravenclaw finally released her furrowing brow with a slow nod, surprising Hermione as she gripped a hold of her hand.

"She wouldn't bite, you know, if you wanted to her tell." Seemly satisfied, Luna turned back to the Quidditch, raising the binoculars with her free back after adding "Unless you ask, I suppose."

A strangled response from Hermione was swallowed up by the excited squeal of the people surrounding them and she span her head round to follow their pointing fingers, shaking it hard to rid the multitude of thoughts and questions stuck in the sticky web of her mind. Her House pride awakened into anticipation as she traced Harry arcing straight down after a flimsy speck of winged gold. She joined in with the horde as the Snitch was captured, Slytherin left decimated into a mere shadow of their former glory.

Gryffindor undertook a lap of the stadium, clapping many outstretched hands of their supporters. All, bar Harry. As soon as he had released the Snitch, Hermione watched him stalk straight back towards the changing rooms and out of sight. Running a hand back through her hair, she stooped to pick up her bag and bid Luna a quick goodbye, her mission from McGonagall a perfect excuse to head after her friend.

A light dusting of snow had been brushed from the clouds by the time Hermione reached the changing rooms, the flakes stinging her cheeks with the nipping cold. She clutched the strap of her bag tighter, idly tracing the outline of a rune in the snow on the ground as she pondered whether or not she should enter.

The lack of noise coming from inside the room told Hermione that the rest of the team had yet to return to the warmth, still perhaps taking their time with talking with their housemates in the stands. Swallowing, she stepped inside and barely resisted scowling at the state of the place. It was in a disgusting state but she gritted her teeth and ignored it as she tried listening out for a clue of where Harry had disappeared to.

An irritated murmur came from her left, towards the showers. Slipping instinctively into a slight crouch, she quietly padded over to its direction. The lone whisper turned into a pair, the owners of the voices immediately evident to Hermione.

"Nothing is wrong with me! Can't you just leave it alone, for once!?" Harry snapped, the rustle of clothing suggesting he was pacing, agitated. Hermione was torn over whether to move any closer even though a split in the wooden partition beckoned her, her eyes flicking back to the entrance as she pondered whether to preserve her friends' privacy by leaving.

Her hand splayed on her chest to coax her breathing into stillness, Hermione shuffled ever so slightly against the wall and crooked her neck to peer through the crack in the wall. From this position, she could see that a bare-chested Harry was indeed pacing, his hands snarled in his unruly hair. The other figure was presently obscured from view, although Hermione would be able to sense who they were even if stripped of her senses.

"Please Harry, tell someone what's going on. Even if it's just Ron. Or Hermione. Anyone, if you won't let me help you." Ginny crossed over to Harry, moving to place her hands on his waist in a careful and placating gesture. Turmoil eased from his features for only a split second, a hiss flitting from his lips as he rested his forehead against his girlfriend's, before he shielded himself once more with a blank visage.

"They don't need to know." Harry spat out, emotion only evident in his bitter voice, pulling out of Ginny's grasp to snatch up a grey shirt hanging on a peg "I can deal with this by myself."

"But you don't need to be alone-" Hermione only just managed to bite back a gasp as Harry lashed out, striking a wall with his fist before shoving Ginny back into the wall. A hissing static filled the room as nothing moved, before Harry snapped around to glare directly in her direction.

The man then fled the room, pulling the shirt over his head as he strode directly past Hermione. The sight of a dark swirl to his dull eyes made her freeze briefly. Desperate to find the root of Harry's problems, she leapt from her crouch to shadow him. It was at that moment, however, the Gryffindor team finally decided to return to their pit. Realising this too late, she bumped straight in to the one person on the team she had hoped to avoid.

"What are you doing here?" the wide grin on Ron's face fell into a grimace of conflict as he folded his arms across his chest, drawing himself up to his full height. Hermione stuttered, then blinked herself back into control, undoing her bag and producing the letters she had been entrusted with.

"Professor McGonagall came to speak to me in the library today. She asked me to deliver these to you so she wouldn't have to wait until the morning post." Ron eyed the letters in her outstretched hand suspiciously, as if he was debating whether this was some sort of trap. She resisted the mighty urge to slap him round the back of the head, instead turning to hand them out to the rest of the team who had all gathered around them, affecting an air of polite disinterest as they strained to listen in.

"You've delivered them now." Ron grunted as she turned back to him, to which she merely rolled her eyes and shoved his letter an inch from his face. He grabbed at it, clenching it in his fist as he tried to stare her out. Hermione glanced to the entrance, cursing the intervention as Harry would now evade her attempt to track him as surely as if he had evaporated into the very heart of Hogwarts.

"Clearly." Hermione decided two could play at his game, mimicking Ron's stance and glance, wondering if he felt as foolish as she did. There was a slight flush on his neck, creeping up from under his collar hinting that he probably did but his stubborn pride refused to let it go. Ass.

"Well, this is awkward." The stalemate was broken as both jumped at the amused laugh coming from behind Hermione. Ron spluttered as he met the gaze of person behind her, the red now reaching the tops of his ears.

"Ginny! Put some clothes on!" Unable to stop her body from reacting, Hermione looked over her shoulder to be graced with the sight of the youngest Weasley clad only in a towel. Smug grin plastered on her lips, Ginny sauntered over to Hermione, no trace of the girl she had witnessed only moments earlier. She spied the envelope with her name scrawled upon it and easily plucked it from Hermione's hand.

"Yes, Dad." Ignoring her brother's strained protests, Ginny remained there as she opened the letter. Hermione remained quiet, not trusting herself to speak. Her body throbbed with exhaustion and a mixture of emotions she still hated to admit, the trials of this one day piling on top of her.

Cheers of nervous excitement broke out in the room as envelopes were tossed on the floor and letters devoured. Hermione took only the time to understand the contents, the impending visit of some highly regarded Quidditch scouts, before she took the chance to slink away. Cold air grazed her cheeks as she was just about to break into the night, when her wrist was seized.

Once again, it was Ron that held her back, although he released her instantly and put his hands up in a defeated gesture, shaking his head as he hid his eyes from her "Thanks."

With this singular grunt, he ambled back into the changing room. Hermione lingered there after him, unable to process even a small snippet of anything that whizzed along the tracks her thoughts were hurtling down. A howling wind echoed the primal scream she was desperate to release. The night embraced her as she leapt into its freezing arms, desperate for any refuge offered out to her from… well, everything.

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><p><strong>Reviews will be treasured.<strong>

**~ Nib.**


	7. Heart To Heart

With a hasty flurry that made her bag slip from her shoulder, Hermione hurried in to Hogsmeade, her face set in a scowl of grim determination. She sluiced easily through the crowd, glad that everyone was too busy squeezing in some last minute shopping for Christmas for anyone to try and intercept her. The cold that had lingered in the castle and over the grounds was absent here, although she could probably attribute that to her near-run on the way down. She loosened her scarf, which was already close to unravelling anyhow, and paused for only a second over a decision on whether remove her gloves, which she sharply pulled off and shoved into her pockets.

The action caused her to veer dangerously close to a wall and, not for the first time, Hermione cursed out loud at herself for the slip in attention. It gained her a few startle looks, but all she could think was yet another tiresome reprimand that was so commonplace to her these days. She looked around to gain her bearing, setting off on the right course before she could let the looming thoughts surrounding the upcoming holiday drag her mood down even further.

She knew she was late without knowing what time it was. Hermione was due to meet Ginny, where they were going to Apparate to the Burrow together at the request of Mrs Weasley. She didn't trust that Ginny had fully learnt to Apparate, with the restrictions more lax since the end of the War, therefore requested that the four of them all arrive together or she would come collect Ginny herself. Hermione had hidden her grimace when this was relayed to her, but agreed nonetheless.

Hermione was well aware it would be the first time, since the start of the year, they'd all, willingly, be together for more than the usual few, awkward minutes it took her to escape. She knew it was the reason that she was now running late. Cramming her head full of knowledge, learning far and above what was strictly necessary for her essays, was the only way to block out all the events that crushed down on her. Though, even that was beginning to fail. Still, once ensnared by the trance of the books she'd horded, it was hard to have any grasp on time and it very often ran away from her if there were no lessons to interrupt her.

Sliding strands of unruly hair back behind her ears, Hermione turned into the alley that lead to the back of Honeydukes. She smiled to herself when she thought of their choice of meeting place, which had actually been Ron's decision. It was both typical and surprising of him, unusually comforting to see he'd remained at least partly the same. A pang in her chest made the thought slip away before it became a hindrance.

A chance to reprimand herself once again for her prolonged melancholy was wrenched away as a loud crack rebounded from around the corner. Wand never far from her hand, Hermione sprang into a run. She skidded around the corner, adrenaline pumping her heart up into her throat. There was a swirl of snow obscuring the space for a moment, before it settled back down. A sickening lurch of déjà vu washed over her as she came across a very familiar figure, alone.

Relief started to trickle back in as Ginny was standing, this time, uninjured as far as she could see. Nevertheless, it failed to settle Hermione in any way and she hastened over to the younger girl's side. Reaching out her arm, she laid her hand on her trembling shoulder and softly called her name. A spilt second later and Hermione found herself trapped in strong arms that latched around her waist, a head burying into her shoulder.

Not wanting to break the silence, it seemed like they remained that way for an age. Hermione ran her fingers through the hair of the girl sobbing quietly down her neck, whispering soft noises and was not entirely sure if they were for Ginny or herself. Pulling her head back in order to take a calmer breath, Hermione's gaze snagged on an angry mark hidden just under the collar of her shirt. Maybe sensing the tensing of her body, Ginny finally stilled and pulled awkwardly away, shaking her head slightly but still keeping a hold of her hand.

"Sorry, 'Mione. I'm just… I don't know what came over me." She looked down at the ground, scraping her foot back and forth in the snow in a loose pattern "Harry's not coming with us."

"That was Harry leaving , wasn't it?" Hermione frowned as it then clicked in her head. Apparation could make any matter of popping or cracking sounds as the person departed and there was no doubt that's what she'd heard earlier. However, their progress last year had counted on stealth and they had all perfected the quietest way to Disapparate, Harry in particular. For him to make that much noise, it meant Harry must have been worryingly angry.

"He's just going straight to Grimmauld Place. I don't know if- when he'll come to the Burrow." Ginny stumbled over her words, then squeezed her eyes shut as she the iron infused its way back into her stance. She took her hand away from Hermione's, twisting away as she brought her it up to the same spot where she had seen the mark. Hermione's anger was pricked, a thirst to know how to help protect herself now overruling any other thoughts in her head.

"What is going on between the two of you nowadays?" lunging forward, Hermione grasped the hand that failed to block her and moved it down to reveal the mark there. She swallowed down her nerves, dreading the impending reaction but unable to take anything back now she'd crossed the line "And what's this?"

"Please, Hermione, just don't…" Ginny shook her head more firmly, lowering both of their hands down. Hermione flicked her eyes up at her, seeing tears brewing back up in her eyes, then looked back down at the bruise there. She skimmed her fingers over it tenderly, mind torn between rage at this injury and the desire to touch more of the skin that was ever so warm under her gentle touch.

Fresh snow began to fall down around them, their breaths tangling thickly around the flakes as though huddling together for warmth. Neither moved, though, when Hermione moved her thumb up to trace above her collarbone and along as Ginny tipped her head to the side only the smallest fraction. Another glance back up at her and they were ensnared to the point that everything merely stood still.

"Where's Harry?" A loud voice cut straight through the small space, abruptly severing the connection between the two girls. Hermione stepped back, looking over to where Ron was strolling up to them with his arms filled with goody bags from Honeydukes, his trunk thumping along behind him. She couldn't bring herself to even peek over at Ginny, to see whether she was betraying any hint of what had happened. Hermione was sure the raging inferno of confusion that simmered throughout her veins had at least scorched her cheeks.

"He's gone to Grimmauld Place. He… wants to go through some things, I think." There was a small quiver in Ginny's voice, but he seemed oblivious to it all and accepted it with nod after a minute of considering it.

"Think he'll need any help?" Ron just about managed to get his question out around a Chocolate Frog which he'd shoved in his mouth, tucking the card it gifted into his pocket.

"No!" Ginny's harsh reply finally seemed to make her brother notice, his smile fading as a hint of panic was evident in her voice "I mean, we're late now anyway. Mum will be tearing her hair out."

"True." Ron finished off his Chocolate Frog, keeping an eye fixed on his sister as his frown deepened. When he turned to face Hermione, his features softened for a moment before he seemed to cast everything off with a weary shrug. With a wave that also served as a way for him to wipe the chocolate remaining around his mouth on the back of his sleeve, Ron Disapparated and left the silence to fall once more with the snow.

She could feel Ginny's eyes on her. Biting her lip, Hermione dug into her pockets and tried to pull on her gloves as quickly as she could, now acutely aware of the cold wind starting to bite. After a couple of attempts, her stubborn fingers wouldn't go in the second glove and she was beyond annoyed with how this simple task became impossible around the other girl. With a nervous laugh, Ginny stepped over and took the glove from her. She took Hermione's hand, easing on the glove for her then running a thumb over her knuckles with a small smile.

"C'mon, let's go." Linking her fingers through Ginny's, Hermione took a breath to calm her nerves. She fixed a clear image in her mind and, with only the slightest of pops, Apparate to the Burrow.

* * *

><p>Only the thinnest veil of snow had managed to penetrate the wards that remained over the Burrow. Ron was leant up against the broom shed, waiting for them and apparently oblivious to their arrival. His face appeared haggard in that moment, his creased brow belying a possible struggle going on in his mind. Ginny stumbled forward upon arrival, that alerting him to their presence. He hastily erected a smile as he pushed off the wall, just like the one his sister reflected back at him before turning to Hermione.<p>

"Here, let me take your bag up to my room." Too distracted by the strands of hair that tickled her face as Ginny leant across her to protest, Hermione gave up her bag easily then froze as the offer sunk in.

Of course she'd known where she would be sleeping; it had been the arrangement ever since she'd first visited the Burrow. Everyone was coming to stay at some point over the holiday so there would be no chance to be offered a spare room to take for herself. Still, she had vaguely hoped this may be the case. Yet, hearing the confirmation from Ginny's goddamn distracting lips shattered the shattered hold she'd been futilely trying to contain herself in. Releasing her hand from the youngest Weasley's, Hermione stumbled away a couple of steps.

"'Mione?" Swallowing down a curse at her lack of composure, Hermione took a moment to compose herself so she could face the siblings again. She fuelled a small smile with the wry thought that these two were the only ones to call her that, that both of them had called out to her with equal weights of concern.

"Sure, thank you Ginny." Even she could hear the tightness to her voice, looking down at the ground to hide the grimace on her face as she tightened her scarf around her neck "I think I just need to go for a little walk before heading in."

"You okay?" Ginny asked, arching her eyebrow as she looked at the winter behind them in the garden, just beyond the stronger wards.

"Yeah, you don't look so great. Umm, want me to come with you?" Ron added, Ginny scowling at him for his own bumbling brand of concern. Hermione just stared at him, incredulous. After months of negligence and downright hate from him over the last few months, it just made her feel worse. She shook her head and his face fell, although he tried to hide his expression with a shrug of his shoulders. Without another word, Ron headed indoors, his trunk trailing lazily behind him.

"I'll let Mum know you needed some fresh air." Ginny chewed on her lip, looking as though she wanted to relief the burden of thoughts on her mind. Just as Hermione stepped forward to speak, she shook her head and followed after her brother.

Uncertain of whether she felt relieved or saddened to be alone, Hermione started walking with no particular aim in mind. Just when she believed things would settle, the exact opposite occurred and rent apart her defences. Things were just so out of control, it was suffocating. Time was slipping through her fingers and soon nothing she could think of to fix this would be useful, to anyone let alone herself.

By the time she reached the low wall that encircled the Weasley's orchard, the anger she felt at herself had intensified as much as the snowfall had. Hermione trudged through it stubbornly, just as she did with her erratic thoughts. She came close to tripping several times, which only severed to fuel her rage further. One more stumble and it was enough to end up with Hermione lashing out with her fist, it connecting solidly with a tree.

"Fuck!" The action failed to calm her, the pain across her knuckles just dulling quickly to low throb. A chuckle from behind her stirred up even further, Hermione's alarm spiking upon the realisation someone may be witness to her meltdown.

Out from behind a large apple tree shuffled what first appeared to be a dishevelled pile of rags. Hermione's red mist cooled when she recognised the figure looming toward her. George was unsteady on his feet and a glazed smile was fixed queerly on his face, as though it was no longer used to that action. Closing her eyes briefly against the memories, Hermione knew that it was very likely that thought was true.

"Hermione." George slowed in taking a flask from his jacket as his eyes fixed on the tear tracks remaining on her cheeks, twisting it open once he had drawn closer to her "I sense that something is upsetting you"

"George, I…" she mumbled after a nervous laugh, suddenly acutely aware that the last time they had been together was the funeral of his twin and all the other treasured fallen after the War. Not knowing what exactly to say, Hermione simply took the offered flask from him, holding it in both hands.

"Hey, look at me. What's wrong? " George's face creased even more as he seemed to visibly sober, cupping her chin to make her look up at him.

"Oh, it's nothing." Hermione bit her lip then, trying to block out the grief that was so plainly engraved into the twin's visage. More to block off the conversation than any need to drink, she took a deep gulp from the flask. The instant burn clotted in her throat, making her choke out her words in ragged breaths "It's nothing."

"Hermione, I've had an endless stream of comforting words and well-intentioned worrying directed at me since… well, you know what happened." Although his face was guarded to the best of his ability, the lack of shine to his eyes made her listen to him. George took the flask from her hands, tucking it back into place, before placing a hand on her cheek "Please, indulge a poor man."

Hermione turned away from him, starting to walk off and linking her arm through his when he offered it to her. Thoughts still ignited in her mind, spiralling around as though in a race though Dante's seven levels of hell. A bitter laugh fell from her lips and she was loathe to take her next breath, the fear that all the hurt would break forth with only the slightest bit of prompting. Which inevitably happened regardless, all in one fell swoop.

"Something is completely wrong with Harry but I can't talk to him because wither he's vanished into thin air or Ron's hovering nearby. Ron hates me, or at least acts like he does most of the time, because I love him in the way l love Harry, like a brother and not the way he feels for me. But I think I'm in love." Hermione took a deep breath, shuddering as she felt the cold again as she slowed her word to a quiet but coherent sentence "I'm in love with someone that I should be in love with."

"Well…" George whistled lowly, shaking his head as he gazed at her.

"Yeah." Hermione wiped at her eyes, refusing to meet his, although the weight on her shoulder had lessened.

"Well, Auntie George to the rescue with his fabulous advice. First things first: Harry. The Boy Who Lived is sure to have a couple of issues after defeating a very powerful and very murderous Dark wizard." George paused to take another drink, screwing up his face as he found the flask empty. With a frown, he placed it back and ran a hand through his hair. "I think we all agree that he perhaps should have got back to Hogwarts so soon but you know him. You won't sway his mind once he's set on something. Time is really what he needs now"

"He's had half a year." Hermione felt she should point out as she held out her hand, indicating he should pass her his flask.

"And seven years at the number one spot on Voldermort's hit list." George seemed to almost roll his eyes as he passed the flask over to her.

"Point taken." Hermione sighed, removing her wand from her pocket and tapping it three times on the top of the flask "I just wish he wasn't so bloody stubborn at times."

"Which leads us nicely on to problem number two on your list of woes: Ron. What has my git of a brother done now?" He caught the flask easily when she tossed it back to him, glancing at it curiously before replacing it in his pocket for later.

"We kissed." Hermione felt the warmth flare in her face as she blurted it out, glad that George had the decency to keep focused on looking ahead.

"And you were really that bad?" George nearly knocked straight into a tree when she elbowed him with an indignant sniff.

"No!" Hermione straightened herself up, then scowled slightly "At least, I don't know. It just made something incredibly clear to me. I then, stupidly, informed him, thinking he'd be happy for me."

"And that was…?" he cocked his head, stepping up beside her again and prompting her to take his arm once again as he started walking.

"I like girls."

"And?" George urged after a moment of silence, reaching into his pocket once again with shaky fingers.

"Ron's not a girl." Hermione said slowly, unsure of whether the man was picking up on her meaning.

"Debatable, but I see your problem." He snorted, curling one side of his lips into an amused grin "So, you're gay then?"

"I suppose I am." Nodding slowly, Hermione couldn't help but smile at the admission that had been bubbling up inside her for so long now. The surrealism of it all bemused her but the weigh on her shoulders was barely noticeable now.

"He'll get over it." George shrugged, struggling to contain his rising mirth at the dumbstruck expression on the girl's face "I suppose problem number three leads on from here? Who's the lucky female headlining those fantasies in that pretty little head of yours?"

Hermione chewed on her lip, wondering for the first time if she could trust George. As though sensing her reluctance, he just took a hold of her hand, allowing a patient silence to fall between them. They had passed back through the entrance to the orchard by the time Hermione could no longer hold it in.

"It's Ginny." George faltered for a few steps, a pensive mist drawing over his mostly void expression. Finally, he simply nodded and continued, squeezing her hand as she had loosened her grip "Well?"

"Well, what? I could see you being a good couple together." Hermione stared at him, mouth agape, as he once again took his flask out. Opening it, he tentatively took a sip, beaming when he discovered a replenished supply of Firewhiskey, courtesy of the brunette. Said brunette, however, was not as amused.

"Oh yes, we'd be great. Bar the fact that she my best friend's girlfriend and the sister of the other." She no longer felt the buoyant feeling that had been filling her, the hopelessness of the situation sinking back in.

"I never said you'd make a perfect couple." Hermione wanted desperately to punch another tree when George just shrugged again, swallowing it down with a deeply frustrated breathe.

"Great." She wrenched away the flask from the man's hand, managing to take a gulp before George gently eased it from her hands.

"Hermione, listen to me." George took a hold of her shoulders, looking into her eyes with a slightly intimidating precision "I'm not going to sugarcoat anything for you. What you've been through, what we've all been through, is terrible. You need to live for yourself now. You, most of all among many, need to live for whatever makes you happy. Harry is grieving, but he will reach out in the end. My brother is an idiot, but he'll never abandon you. Ginny will love you back, but you need to find out in which way she'll do that and if you can accept that."

"Thank you." Hermione mumbled into his chest as George wrapped his scrawny arms around her in a tight hug. He rubbed her back, both of them pointedly ignoring the trembling in his frame that had nothing to do with the cold.

"Any time. I'm not just a pretty face, you know." She pulled back to look at his shaky smile, treasuring what must have been a rare attempt for him these days. Hermione could see a veil of tears threatening to make an appearance, guilt surfacing in her gut.

"George, I-"

"No!" A gust of wind struck Hermione as he wrenched away from her, the cold adding to the harsh bite in his voice. For a second he snarled to himself, regaining his composure as he replaced his arm over her shoulders and shaking his head "No. I know what you're going to say. No mentioning him. Please."

Hermione hoped the pity was concealed in her eyes as she turned to him, standing on tiptoes to give him a quick peck on the cheek "Okay."

By then, they'd reached the front door of the Burrow. Both bracing themselves, George ushered Hermione inside. The customary fuss ensued with the Weasley matriarch instantly handing her a cup filled with her homemade batch of Pepper-Up Potion, one that wouldn't chug steam from her ears and banished the cold instantly. Vaguely listening to the chatter as Mrs Weasley pottered around the kitchen, she peeked past her shoulder, meeting George's gaze and his reassuring smile. Hermione returned it genuinely, feeling much better about the holiday now.

* * *

><p><strong>Reviews will be treasured.<strong>

**~ Nib.**


	8. Building Bridges

"Would you like some more tea, love?" her head snapping up, Hermione jolted out of where sleep had been enticing her down into its warm bosom. She rubbed the drowsiness from slightly blurry eyes before realising Mrs Weasley was standing above her, smile as she waited for an answer and looking every inch the Weasley matriarch. A rapid succession of blinks to clear her vision, though, revealed a dull shade to her eyes, belying hints of residual grief.

"That would be lovely, thank you." she dragged herself upright in the chair, gripping onto the arms and staring into dwindling fire to the sound of mugs clattering in the kitchen. The clock had long since chimed eleven, usually the earliest bedtime Hermione set herself, yet hardly ever adhered to. Tonight, slumber grabbed at her with tendril getting stronger as the evening had progressed. Several times she had been really to make her excuses. Several times, they had been swallowed back down whenever Mrs Weasley had looked up at her.

Their evening had been spent together, just the two of them as the Weasley siblings had swiftly retreated to their respective rooms not long after their arrival. Topics deemed safe had been exhausted to the point of torture, interspersed with lingering silences. During these long moments, Hermione forced herself to stop counting the number of times she caught the older woman glancing up at the fireplace, a mantelpiece devoted solely to pictures of Fred.

A gust of air laid a cold slap on her cheek, rescuing her from the image of Mrs Weasley's wavering smile. Twisting in her seat to peer at the front door, Hermione caught sight of two figured walking in. The stockier of the two slipped into the kitchen, while the other headed towards her with slumped shoulders, rubbing the back of their neck with a weary sigh. A crackle from the fire made her gasp.

"Ah, Hermione. Nice to see you." Mr Weasley squeezed her shoulder lightly, then dropping down onto the sofa heavily with a groan before slipping off his robe. Hermione struggled not to notice just how thin the man appeared "Molly still up?"

"She was just fixing some more tea for us, I believe." Nodding, they both glanced in the direction of the door as a loud shriek came from the kitchen, Hermione with concern that softened at Mr Weasley's chuckle.

"Charlie." He answered her still startled expression with a kind smile before screwing his hands together, glancing down at the floor "How has she been tonight?"

"She seems… tired." Voice tight with awkwardness, Hermione offered with a small shrug, trailing off as she watched him shake his head.

"I doubt either of us has slept more than a few hours a night since…" trailing off, the man simply gazed over at the photos reflecting happier times for the Weasley household. Any more conversation was cut off by the matron of the family sweeping back into the room, tray filled with tea and biscuits landing with a clatter on the table in front of Hermione. Charlie, who had been trailing behind her, was once again engulfed in a tight hug.

"Molly, let the boy breathe. He's only just arrived back from Romania." A silent look rebounded between the two, with Mrs Weasley breaking it to fill a cup for both her husband and Hermione. Hands shaking, she placed the pot down with a nod.

"I'll just go check on the wards then, before we all head up for bed." Pausing briefly to lay a hand on her son's cheek, she shuffled towards the door "Goodnight, you two."

"Goodnight, Mrs Weasley." Hermione called after her, stopping the woman in her tracks as she then adorned her jacket.

"Hermione, love, it's Molly." They all shared a quiet laugh, Charlie slinking upstairs after one last hug from his mother. Arthur rose to walk out with his wife, squeezing her hand and leaning into her as her mask began to falter. Hermione turned back to her tea, guilt stabbing at her for the slightest intrusion on the couple's intimate moment. Gulping down the remainder of her drink, scorching her throat in the process, Hermione escaped to the stairs.

Running a hand through her tangle of hair, Hermione chewed on her lip as she ascended to the first floor. She hovered at the entrance to the bedroom before her, straining to take a breath deep enough to calm her nerves. Ginny had been absent since dinner some hours ago, where Molly had talked constantly, trying to provoke more than the awkward and stilted conversation that was offered to her.

Hermione sighed, the craving for sleep erasing all the tension that had been racketing up inside her body, and stepped into the room. When her eyes had accustomed to the dark, aided by a beam fuelled by the moonlight, she could see that the room had been prepared in anticipation of her stay. Single beds stood at opposing ends of the room, while a chest of drawers had been cleared out for her use.

Staring at the bed, she rubbed a hand over her eyes once again and decided she'd unpack her things in the morning. Hermione hurried over to her bag, crouching down to grab around wildly for the oversized shirt that she had become accustomed to wearing to bed. It was stretchy and worn, plain and black, probably an old shirt of her fathers that had fell in once as she had prepared to leave for Hogwarts. The chill of the night nipped at her as she began to undress.

A noise shifted behind her. Hermione froze. She peered over her shoulder, for the first time acknowledging Ginny's presence directly. Red hair fanned out from around a beautiful and serene face that made her ache with how peaceful she seemed. When nothing but the sound of soft and even sighs reached her ears, she released a breath with a giddy shake of the head. Cold tendrils seized a tighter hold over her, cheeks flaring up at how she had left herself exposed for that long with the shirt barely covering her modesty.

The covers were inviting as she dove under them, snagging them around her limbs before she tightened herself into a ball. Comfort embraced her eagerly and Hermione wished for nothing simpler for than sleep to take her over.

* * *

><p>Golden rays streaming through the frosty windows coaxed sleep from her eyes. Hermione's smile blossomed as she stretched her body out, snatching her toes back under the covers when they hit a wall of icy air. With aches relieved, and no pounding headache to greet her waking, a hum of appreciation echoed through her as she indulged in one of the rare lie-ins she'd permitted herself since returning to Hogwarts.<p>

Curling back into a ball, duvet wrapped in a cosy tangle around her legs, Hermione idly traced the grey clouds holding up the sun as it fended off the impending snowfall. Grinning now, all trace of the tension that had been coiled painfully inside her for so long had vanished under the siege of a good night's rest, especially after her explosion of emotion on poor George the previous day. Not even the lingering sadness from the previous evening's ending succeeded in darkening her thoughts.

Hermione twisted over once again, lying on her back as she smoothed the duvet out before her. Peeking over to the other side, she realised that Ginny must have already risen some time ago, her duvet half on the floor and pyjamas strewn over the bed. Biting on her lip, she braced herself for the freezing immersion as she tore the covers off and leapt out into the room.

Positively arctic during its first attack, Hermione managed to prevent icicles biting through to her bones by adorning her pyjama bottoms and a particular fetching pair of fluffy, red socks. Satisfied that frostbite had been thwarted by her preparations, Hermione slipped on an old hoody stolen from Harry months ago for good measure. The bed was made swiftly with her wand liberated from under the mess of yesterday's clothes, which were themselves put into a neat and folded pile.

An urge came over Hermione as she stepped towards the door. Although her morning cup of tea was beckoning out to her, she moved over to the other bed. She tucked her wand in the front pocket of her hoodie. Working swiftly, she picked up Ginny's bedclothes: a shirt with a grinning cat and a pair of green shorts. Hermione folded them, setting them down on a freshly fluffed pillow and replacing the covers right.

Task complete, a need for tea overrode any reason to delay. Her swift journey halted, feet losing any will to move, when she caught sight of Ginny from the corner of her eye. The girl was curled up, pressed up against the window as she looked out over the glistening layer of virginal snow. Looking out, yet not seeing anything if her black expression was anything to go by. Squeezing her eye shut, Hermione forced herself to continue to her destination.

"Morning!" A unanimous cry greeted her as she made her entrance, jerking her mind back into her body from where it had been lingering back in the previous room. Murmuring a reply with a pink tinge and a nod, Hermione took her seat. The normality of it all was overwhelming: George making jokes at Percy's expense, Charlie taking it in with a quiet grin, Ron shovelling down a plateful of scrambled eggs, Arthur reading the Daily Prophet while Molly watched over them all with her knitting clicking away over her shoulder.

"Hey 'Mione, two sugars, right?" Ron, egg hastily wiped from his mouth using the back of his hand, placed a mug in front of her.

"Right." Hermione took a sip, blinking at just how it hit the spot "Thanks."

Scarlet burnt up the side of Ron's neck, as he busied himself with another slice of toast. She glanced up to see George looking over at her, an arched brow briefly visible before he resumed teasing Percy with increasingly inappropriate questions regarding his new girlfriend.

Simply chuckling to herself, Hermione stacked a few pieces of toast onto her plate, deliberating between what jam to spread. The Weasley's had a marvellous collection and she eventually decided to keep it simple, choosing blackberry. It was delicious. Washing another slice down with her tea, she casually began flicking through Molly's latest copy of _Witch Weekly_.

A sudden crash had everyone on their feet, the relaxed atmosphere gone in an instant. Wands were taken out instantly, trained at the front door. It had been flung wide open, snow scattering gleefully into the hall. Two figures stumbled forward, freezing when they noticed wands had been trained on them.

"Bill!" Molly squealed, delighted. Sure enough, a burst of sunlight outlined the eldest Weasley sibling and his wife, both cutting fine figures. Although Bill himself appeared flustered, hastily straightening his shirt as Fleur sashayed in to the kitchen. The woman's smile was enigmatic, a mischievous glint to her eye visible for all to see.

"Sorry 'bout that. My lovely wife was a bit enthusiastic there." Bill glared at George, who had snorted tea from his nose as he tried to disguise his sniggering "With Apparating! Getting out of the cold…"

"Sure!" George couldn't contain his laughter any longer, howling in a fashion that Hermione saw surprised his parents, their features softening proudly. Soon everyone had joined in, even Percy.

Plans for the rest of the day were devised with military precision by Molly, Hermione being given the time to unpack. Clothes neatly slotted away, books perched daringly on top of the drawers, she then bowed to her whims and began on her first essay. The task engrossed her instantly, humming a nonsensical tune to no-one in general as she slaughtered the parchment with inked knowledge. Mental references were store away for dissemination later on, her reading list multiplying.

A knock pulled her out of that special refuge and she rubbed her temples with ink-stain fingertips. Screwing her face she quickly flicked the stains away, tucking her wand back in her hoodie. It was only then she realised she was still in her sleeping attire. Pulling her hair back into a ponytail, Hermione was bemused by how little it bothered her whereas it would have crippled her before. Another knock came.

"Come in." Hermione straightened up the papers in front of her as the door opened and Ron peered round the edge. He stood there, lingering while a mask of stricken panic hung over him.

"I'm not going to bite, Ronald." The end of her lip lifted to show she was jesting, finding neutrality to her voice came naturally. Hermione searched and found no anger remaining, the wounded puppy look now shifting on Ron's face reflecting a similar sentiment.

"Can we talk?" Ron's slumped onto the bed next to her, keeping a conscious effort to keep a distance. Nodding, she offered him a smile that he didn't return, instead running his hands over his face.

"Are you okay?" Hermione almost reached a hand out to him, restraining herself at the last moment as she was unsure it would be wanted. Her heart dropped, had it really become that bad between them?

"Look, I just need to say something. I don't want you to say anything, at all, until I've finished. Please?" removing his hands away from his face and balling them into his pocket, Ron fixed her with a determined look.

"Sure." She wet her lips, nerves stretched tight.

"Hermione, I love you-"

"Ron-" immediately flitting from the bed, Hermione shook her head at him.

"Please. I need to say this. Just listen." Ron held out a hand to her, pulling her back down next to her as he ran his free one through his hair "Sorry, but if you stop me, I'll never say it and things will just get worse."

"Sorry." Hermione gave his hand a squeeze. He swallowed as she nodded for him to continue.

"I love you. During the last year, I kept going just by thinking of what the life we could have when it was all over. Now, I don't know what I want. I figured I'd have you and everything would fall into place." Ron ran his thumb over her knuckles before releasing her hand "I reacted badly but I don't hate you. And I'm sorry for how I've been. I still feel this way for you, I can't see that stopping, but I know it won't happen now. So, I'm just going to try and be your best friend again. I miss you."

Silence drifted between them, tears blurring her vision before she wiped them away "Ron… I don't know what to say."

"You can call me a git if you like." Laughter dispelled and banished the remnants of awkwardness. Hermione pulled the bewildered boy into a strong hug, which he returned fondly.

"You're not a git." Ruffling his hair, she got to her feet again "Not all the time, anyway."

"I would have to disagree with you there." George stepped into the room, arms folded as he eyed them both "He giving you trouble?"

"No George, everything's fine." She wrapped her arms around herself, grinning as the truth of that sunk in.

"Right." A knowing smile fleetingly glided over his lip, before he shook his head "Well, Bill wants everyone downstairs. I'm here to round you two lovebirds up."

As Ron spluttered an attempt to clear the air, Hermione just rolled her eyes. She struck George in the stomach, hard enough to make him stumble a bit too dramatically to be believable. The laughter that escaped her, however, took all the malice from it "Come on, let's go."

"My lady, you wound me." George draped his arm over her shoulder and led them from the room, dragging a very confused looking Ron behind them.

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><p><strong>Reviews will be treasured.<strong>

**~ Nib.**


	9. News

"Alas, my lady, we must go our separate ways. Such parting is ever so bittersweet." Hermione rolled her eyes as she suppressed a rather unladylike snort, ducking out from under George's arm as he bowed dramatically.

"Where are you going?" Ron's face scrunched up as his eyes darted between the two, still quite unsure of what to make of this sudden bond Hermione had gained rapidly with the twin.

"I want to get another drink." Shrugging, George headed for the kitchen. His steps were careful and deliberate. Staged. Evidently Ron agreed, leaning passed her to grab his brother's arm, forcing him to stagger for a second.

"Don't you think you've had enough already?" through gritted teeth, Ron spoke evenly in an attempt to restrain his anger. A tense unspoken conversation seemed to flit between the two, until George pulled his arm away and broke the connection, energy draining from him as he slumped away.

Face undulating with a conflict of emotions, Ron started after him. Unable to deter him with a touch of her hand on his forearm, Hermione stepped over to block his way. He jolted to a stop, their bodies practically pressed against one another. She could see the flush growing on his neck, his breaths unsteady as he stared at the hand she still had pressed against his chest, which she snatched back at once. He squeezed his eyes shut, guarding against the feelings she kicked herself for undoing so soon after their talk.

"Sorry." Ron mumbled, stumbling back and gesturing towards the other room where a low hum of voices reminded her why they had journeyed downstairs. All the Weasley's had crammed in to the seats gathered into a close circle. Even so, the relative hush set her nerves slightly on edge as it failed to conceal a tension reverberating unspoken around them all.

Shadows across from her shifted, the source of it striking an alarm inside of Hermione. A gaunt figure blinked back when she peered closer, no trace of recognition in the dull orbs shocking her into realisation.

Harry had become almost unrecognisable. Pale skin was visible even from where Hermione stood, face pulled into an ill-concealed grimace. The grey shirt he was sporting hung loosely from his frame, though memories called to the front of her mind confirmed that it had once been a snug fit upon him. Hermione swallowed down an icy sensation as he turned his eyes away from her, focusing them once again into narrow slits that burned an intense hole into the back of Ginny's head.

"He must have arrived when we were talking." Only the softness in his tone made Hermione stop from jumping, a heartening hand on her shoulder halting the small tremors she hadn't noticed. Wrapping her arms around herself, she took in Ron's deepening frown and only the slightest comfort that she wasn't the only one to have noticed her best friend's decline.

"Ron-" Hermione had to bite her tongue as Bill called out to them both to sit down, reining in her desire to question him on whatever he knew had been changing with Harry.

While Ron moved across to lean against the back of the sofa his parents were squashed onto, she realised the only free place remaining was next to Ginny. Forcing herself not to look over to the corner, it instead dawned upon Hermione the depth of just how she had missed the company of the girl she lowered herself next to, even though it had been less than a day since she had last heard her voice. It pierced her sharply when Ginny flinched, as though suddenly wrenched out of a daydream. Or nightmare.

Without thinking, Hermione slipped her hand closer, nudging Ginny's a little. When she didn't react further than her gaze dropping for a split moment, she slid her fingers to link them together, moving the hands back to obscure them from any easy glances their way. Trying to pour some warmth into the gesture, she squeezed gently. Hermione was unsure how comforted she was when her hand was gripped back with surprising strength.

Bill cleared his throat, stealing most of Hermione's attention from his sister. The hum from the other petered out, broken only by George entering the room to be stand next to a stony faced Ron, drink gripped close to his chest.

"Well, umm I guess that we have some news to tell all of you." Bill stole a look down at his wife, who joined him within a heartbeat, securing her arm around his waist so they joined together as easy as slotting in the last piece of a perfect puzzle. Although brief, the look they shared was encased in pure and unadulterated love that brought a smile to Hermione's lips. Her hand became sensitive, tingling where Ginny still held onto her.

"Yes, we do." Fleur spoke in near faultless English, pulling Hermione back from the distraction of the curious fluttering in her chest. She focused on the couple with effort as Fleur placed her husband's hands on her stomach with a wide smile.

"We're having a baby." Bill practically burst with excitement, a wild grin escaping from him after kissing his wife on the top of her head.

"It is a girl, I am sure of it." Fleur was just audible over Molly's squeals of delight. The Weasley matriarch embraced them in a crushing hug, rambling in an endearing but ineligible fashion with tears streaking down her cheeks.

Hermione was swept up by the others as everyone swarmed around the couple, congratulations multiplying on top of each other in order to be heard. When the tide brought her to the couple, Bill pulled her into a firm hug, lifting her off her feet to the immense amusement of everyone else. Fleur was by her side as she was settled back down, kissing her cheek with a kind smile. Giddiness washed over her. It was nothing compared to the butterflies that Ginny gave her but enough to allow her admit there may be something to those Veela charms after all.

Mind instantly taken over by the mere thought of her, Hermione sought Ginny out. Confidence that had been bubbling up inside plummeted into a low gnawing ache as she spotted she had moved over to stand by Harry. Neither were speaking, nor even moving at all, Ginny looking down at her feet while he simply had not moved since she had last saw him. Chewing her lip, it nagged at her why it looked as though she was the only one who found this odd.

Unwilling to lose the newfound spirit she'd only yesterday embraced, Hermione carried on inspecting the lingering groups in the room. Ron and George stood close to one another, head bowed close together with stern expressions as they blocked out everyone else. Molly had gathered the happy and expectant couple onto the sofa either side of her, who stole amused glances at each other as she continued to preach How To Raise A Baby 101.

"Kingsley will get the job permanently, I'm sure." Percy inclined his head her way as she tuned into his conversation with Arthur, shifting to the side as he offered her a seat beside him "I've taken a look at some of those reforms he's been mentioning. They'll ruffle some feathers but they are some pretty great ideas."

"I think you may be right, son." Where the old him might have puffed out his chest with pride reflected in his father's words, the Percy next to Hermione was the one who appeared to be reformed. Weary eyes gave him a more grown up mask, any previous pompous and flowery speech banished while ambition still remained.

"He asked me to sit in on his meeting with the Auror's and a few Heads from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement when the Ministry reopens, but I told him that you should sit in my place. Do you mind?" Percy shared the same blushing trait as his younger brother, Hermione noted as she saw him swallow down a flush of embarrassment and she smile at the clear but small olive branch.

"I'm sure he won't mind either way, we'll see after the holidays." Arthur sent her a warm smile, noticing the question perching on the tip of her tongue "Only a skeleton staff stays on during Christmas. At least, Kingsley agreed we all needed the break this year."

"When will a new Minister for Magic be appointed?" Hermione failed to remember the last time she had browsed the Daily Prophet, making a mental point to catch up with current affairs, both Muggle and magical, at some time during the next few days.

"Kingsley is the Minister in all but name right now. There are a few votes and meetings that need to be done, but it won't be long until you hear it becoming official." His face drawn into a thoughtful pose, Percy cracked his knuckles as he considered her question "Maybe a couple of months, at the most."

"He's determined to reshuffle everything, from what he's told us so far, so I'd be surprised if it was that wrong." They all chuckled at that, before Arthur turned to her.

"So, Hermione. Have you had any thoughts on what the future holds for you yet?" his question was not entirely a surprise yet still threw Hermione as she asked herself the same thing.

"Not entirely." She decided to be honest "I used to think I'd like to join the Ministry myself. The last year hasn't really given me much of a chance to decide. Plus I've just been focused on studying for the NEWTs."

Pity flickering over his face before he had a chance to conceal it, Percy wrung his hands together "If you ever wanted to visit, I wouldn't mind giving you the tour. I know several people who would kil- I mean, love to have a brilliant young witch like you in their Department."

"Do you have a particular area in mind?" Arthur supplied as his son faltered, trying to smooth over his slip up, sending a pointed look in his direction.

"I don't really know. Professor McGonagall mentioned there will teaching positions going at Hogwarts. I was considering maybe taking her up on her offer." Again, Hermione felt the stress constricting her throat, panic stuck there momentarily "I think I'm going to get a drink. Can I get either of you anything?"

Hermione was grateful when both Weasley's declined, shaking their heads while permitting her escape. She retreated to the kitchen. Entering the room, she pressed her back up against the wall, squeezing her eyes shut as the angst-ridden crisis descended on her. Her resolve was crumbling, unable to smooth over the cracks with the overload of the past few hours.

Anger was the emotion at the forefront of Hermione's mind. Anger at any stray thought, change or difficulty that was now able to trigger a meltdown like this. Confusion came a close second as she tried to order memories popping up in a barrage, one after the other, unable to pinpoint when this breakdown of her stoicism had occurred. Digging her nails hard into the palms of her clenched fists, the flinching pain caused her to jolt the train of thought enough for her to calm down.

Sighing as she splayed out her fingers, Hermione shoved the issues from her mind, yet deciding this time she needed to ponder on them all later. No more dwelling on things could occur and the decision over what to do after Hogwarts couldn't wait much longer. Maybe she could enlist George's help, possibly Ron as well. The idea made her smile, lightening up as she realised he was her ally once again.

"Hermione?" the voice was soft enough not to startle her as she blinked open her eyes. On the other side of the kitchen, Charlie stood among a mess of ingredients spread over the table and counters. He stood no taller than Hermione but his frame was still a muscular one, emphasised by the tight black shirt he wore. The graphic logo of a roaring Swedish Short-Snout did, however, contrast vastly with the pastel pink apron he was wearing.

"Oh, sorry. Didn't realise anyone was in here." She pushed off against the wall, lingering uncertainly as Charlie read from a piece of parchment floating next to him.

"It's fine. Just too loud in there. Bit crowded." Charlie shrugged, sending her a reassuring grin before turning back to his baking "You'd think I'd be used to noise, with dragons."

Hermione pulled a chair out for herself, sitting down as she started to roll up her sleeves "Have you always known what you wanted to do? Working with dragons?"

Charlie ignored her. Or seemed to as he finished off the butter icing, scooping some onto a spoon and handing it over to her. Hermione sucked a little of it off the tip of her finger, her eyes rolling back as she tasted it. It was heavenly. With a chuckle, the man then shrugged again as he returned to beating the mix in his bowl.

"It felt right." Pulling a tray from the pile of utensils he had, Charlie began putting bun cases in the spaces, filling them with something that smelt heavily of chocolate. She finished off the icing as she worked up the nerve to press a little further, taking another spoon from him, this one with the remaining cupcake mix.

"You've never just wanted to come back here? Settle down?" this time, there was no hesitation from him

"No." Charlie arched his brown, glancing up at her as he braced himself against the table "Never."

Hermione drummed her fingers on the wooden surface, biting the inside of her cheek to stop herself from prying any further. She looked up again when Charlie let out a long breath, a struggle for words evident on his otherwise plain face.

"I'm happy with life. I have a dream job and a family to support me whenever I need a break from it. I have never felt any attraction towards anyone, I don't see it happening either. I'm not saying it will never happen… but I'll not regret anything if it doesn't." clicking his tongue and turning away, Charlie shook his head "Here's where Fred would say that I just get the hots for dragons, or something like that."

"Must be nice, being so sure of yourself." Hermione chuckled after reaching across the table to pat his hand with a sad smile. Her smile was reflected back, before it creased into a frown as Charlie cracked his knuckles loudly. Placing his hands on his hip, he crossed to where she noticed a new addition to the kitchen appliances.

"Now, if you'd be so kind, how in the name of Merlin's beard do you use this 'oven'?"

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><p><strong>Reviews will be treasured.<strong>

**~ Nib.**


	10. Memorial

**A/N: So I was going to wait until I'd finished everything before uploading the next chapter. But I'm feeling optimistic, so here you go. Check my profile for updates on my progress, so you're not kept in the dark.**

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><p>The wind snatched Hermione into its feisty embrace as she sprang from the Burrow's front door, making sure it was firmly shut against the elements, all the while trying not to dwell on the fact she was late. Looping her scarf once more around her already cold-bitten neck, she added briskness to her pace and headed in the direction of the Weasley's orchard. It did occur to her that the cold had got steadily worse over the last few days, not that it was odd for this time of year.<p>

It was the lingering sharpness that had seeped into the household that jarred against her senses in an uncomfortable yet elusive familiarity. Snapping, raised voices had become a more than frequent occurrence than the usual homeliness that she equated with the Burrow. Hermione had managed not to obsess over it, bunkering down and rewriting already perfected essays to the point she was writing them in her sleep, waking with her hand clenched tightly as though clutching a phantom quill.

Squeezing her eyes closed for a scant few seconds, with a pinch to the bridge of her nose for emphasis, Hermione cast the thoughts from her mind. Words soothed her as she began to recall the opening chapter to one of her favourite texts, Hogwarts: A History. It had become of her calming exercises to commit the book to memory, something she had quite nearly achieved. By the end of three paragraphs, she had reached the clearing that doubled as the Weasley siblings Quidditch pitch. It was also her destination.

Hermione faltered in stepping out into the open, touching a hand back against the nearest tree and pulling herself back against it. She swallowed down her heartbeat, willing it return to its normal patter. It refused. Glancing up, a silvery sheet shimmering between two trees directly opposite to beckoned out to Hermione as though a chequered flag to signify her finish. Yet, instead she took the opportunity in her hesitation to examine the people gathered before it, performing the task with her usual attention to detail.

It appeared that everyone had reached the memorial before her, confirming her annoyance in her odd lapse of lateness. Molly and Arthur were placed closest to the wavering sheet, the latter holding his wife resolutely against him with a firm arm around her waist, the former refusing to look anywhere but her feet. Charlie shared a long look with his father before handing Molly a handkerchief without any words or fuss.

Attempting a smile, Hermione was reminded just how quickly she had come to rely on the quiet man's calming presence, in the same fashion George had endeared himself to her almost as soon as she had settled in. She looked for the twin in question, yet her eyes were drawn to an unfamiliar woman sharing a quiet joke with Bill and Fleur. Quite unremarkably plain, she was leaning into Percy, their fingers entwined and held against her side. _Audrey_, she thought after the name eluded memory for a few frustrating moments before her eye caught another interesting sight.

Ron was backed up against the opposite end of the sheet, a part-grin caught halfway between confusion and amusement on his face as he listened to the blonde in front of him. Luna was clearly inside her friend's comfort zone, the red tips to his ears visible even from her position across the clearing. Hermione arched her brow, struggling to recall the Ravenclaw's arrival, in which time Luna stepped closer to Ron to lay her hand on his arm, revealing their ashen-faced companion.

Ginny was as pale as she had ever seen the girl, thinly grimacing when Luna peered her way. The feeble attempt crumbled the instant she turned away again, the haunted look failing to be concealed in any case. Hermione dug her nails into bark as she restrained the desire to whisk her away, to hold her and banish the pain that hung from around her slumped shoulders. A breath escaped her as she resolved, however, to tackle this as soon as the memorial became a past event.

Pulling her coat tighter around her torso, Hermione shifted out from under the cover of the tree. As she did so, she finally caught sight of Harry. Albeit closer than herself, he too was mostly obscured from view as he propped himself up against a tree. A pulse of maternal worry washed over her as she saw he merely wore a t-shirt, crossing stony arms across his chest in order to fend off the biting weather. Flicking her gaze back over to the rest of the group, who were also wrapped from head to toe in odd yet warm layers, Hermione couldn't help but scowl at the fact no one else had seemed to notice this.

Fate intercepted Hermione once again, as she set off in Harry's direction, in the form of George stumbling straight into her. Barely managing to resist the urge to roll her eyes, she grabbed a firm hold of his arm and steered him into something that closer resembled a straight line. Their combined path brought them to a halt just before Luna, Ron and Ginny. As he brought himself up straight, George glimpsed down at her, eyes brimming with unspoken thanks.

"Hermione!" Luna practically leapt at her in a hug, gripping her with surprising strength as warmth emanated from her. Hermione felt the tension release its hold somewhat, a feat that the endearing oddball performed without realising.

"Hey, Luna. I didn't know you were here." feeling a bit overwhelmed, Hermione pushed the girl back gently to allow her to breathe. Unfazed, Luna idly fiddled with one of her dirigible plum earrings while staring straight at her, a vacant expression misting over her face.

"Oh…" snapping out of her dreaming, Luna fixed on a crooked smile as she slid back to Ron's side "Well, Daddy has moved to Ireland, with his fiancée. I didn't want to intrude, so Mrs Weasley allowed me to stay here for the holidays."

"Won't you miss him?" Hermione genuinely wondered, knowing that event though they were on bad terms, she still missed her parents. The girl was silent. George elbowed her in the side, which returned with a bit more force, until she noted he was inclining his head towards his brother. Ron's face was covered with a red cloud of bemusement as Luna had woven her arm through his arm, latching on to him. It made her suppress a laugh, but stifled it as the Ravenclaw turned back to her again.

"No. We still talk, but he deserves a little happiness. Not a reminder of guilt." Luna's innocent brand of brutality made her chest tighten with memories and she felt George squeeze her arm.

"Anyway, I wanted to be with friends. So, here I am" smiling dreamily once more, she twisted her gaze between Hermione and Ginny with no attempt at subtlety before piercing into the former's eyes "I think we all deserve a little happiness."

A single clap of hands rebounded around the clearing, gathering up their attention. All turned to see Arthur peering round at them all, ushering them all closer in with a soft yet sad smile. Molly remained in her place, now with Charlie to support her with a strong arm around her shoulders. It was jarring to find the woman that was usually the pillar of strength for the Weasley family so openly frail and distraught.

Hermione shuffled forwards, wordlessly steadying a reluctant George as she pulled him along with her. Panic spiked in her chest as a dark figure sidled up to her other side, relaxing only a small portion when she realised that it was Ginny. The youngest Weasley remained tight-lipped, resolutely staring ahead even as she grasped at Hermione's hand.

"I believe you all know why we are all here." Arthur's gentle words made her refocus, turning her head back in time to see him gesture his wand over at the sheet hanging behind him. Sweeping it in a downwards fashion, it fluttered loose and pooled onto the ground, melting into the ice. The impressive magic was lost on all those who were focus on what it had revealed.

_Fred Weasley_

_1 April, 1978 – 2 May, 1998_

_Son of Arthur and Molly_

_Brother to Bill, Charlie, Percy, Ron and Ginny_

_Twin brother to George_

_An inspiration and beacon of lightness to all who met him._

_Your laughter was cut short, but will never be silenced in our hearts._

Hermione read the first plaque on Fred's memorial stone with stinging eyes, studying the grinning impression that had been carved above it on the thin pillar. It was impressive in its likeness, as if any moment it would wink at her in the old fashion that real Weasley had always done. Names formed on her lips one by one as she read the second, lower plaque: a list of the fallen, accompanied with a declaration of remembrance.

After reaching the bottom, she pressed her face into George's arm, obscuring the view of the liquid sadness now escaping her. Memories of all those listed flitted in a tormenting dance around her mind and across her vision, torn from them only when she felt the man link his hand in hers and squeeze it tightly. Hermione cocked her head back round when Arthur cleared his throat once more, thick as it was with his own terrible grief.

"Merlin only knows how much your mother and I miss you, Fred. You, your smile, your laughter, even your pranks. I considered leaving a few of your novelty wands around the house, just so we can remember to laugh like we used to." Molly's restraint crumbled at his confession, rushing to her husband who simply held her close. Her wails still echoed slightly, smothered by her burying her face into Arthur's neck in "We love you, son. And we miss you, just so much."

Charlie stepped up beside his father when his voice broke, squeezing his shoulder even as the older man tucked his head down and hobbled back to his spot, Molly still mewling into his chest. All was otherwise silent as the quietest Weasley sibling stared straight into the eyes of the carving of Fred, his face just as stony and resilient as the likeness. Soon though, a wide grin graced his simple features, placing a hand on the stone.

His goodbye completed in his own way, Charlie turned around and held his hand out to Fleur in an invitation to join him. His sister-in-law nodded, stepping up and placing a light peck on his cheek. Bill followed after her, clapping his brother on the back before tugging him into a rough hug. Charlie swiftly ducked away, retreating to his place at his parents' side. The couple's joy faded then as they glanced at one another. Fleur was the first to tiptoe nearer to the memorial, her hand trembling as it reached out to touch the cheek of Fred's likeness.

"It would be a great honour, if you would consent to being godfather to our child. To look out for them, wherever you are now." Fleur whispered, grasping back for her husband for reassurance. The French lilt to her voice strengthened as she struggled to choke back her tears. Bill scooped her back into his arms, wiping the tears from her cheeks as he moved back to where they had been standing.

A moment of stillness seized them all, grief locking in their reluctance to air it verbally. That was until Ron stumbled forwards, nearly tripping over his own feet. He glared at them as if they were no longer in his control, attempting once then twice to look up at the monument before giving in. He swallowed, lips moving in an attempt to sort out his thoughts into words. It was then Hermione noticed tears falling to the ground, easily mixing with the light snowfall that had just begun. She pondered going over to comfort him, the sight disturbing her.

"Your brother loves you too, Ron." Luna had beaten her to his side, rubbing his back slowly as he finally managed to look up at the memorial. A crooked smile lit up his face as she linked her arm around his own once more, brushing a few stray tears from Ron's cheeks as he nodded at her gratefully. His ears were a colour to match his hair.

A pained cry to her right broke her study of the pair gazing at each other. Wiping around, Percy had approached the monument, his face as white as the snow now dusting his clothes. Dark tears ripped from him, painful sobs racking out loud as his acidic guilt burned away inside. He would have collapsed at the foot of the memorial if not for Audrey's support. Still he grasped at it with spindly fingers. Hermione shared a wide-eyed glance with Ron, shock reverberating between them at this display that seemed so removed from childhood memories of the stuffy Head Boy.

"I'm so sorry, Fred. Merlin knows I'm so bloody sorry. It's all my fault. If only…" words garbled by sorrow escaped the broken man, halted by Audrey voice at his ear as she stroked the backs of his hands with her thumbs. The sobbing came to a shuddering end and Percy wiped his eyes dry, nodding once.

A bouquet of bright orange flowers appeared in Audrey's hand, which she placed at the foot of the memorial with a few muttered words that didn't quite reach Hermione. Percy still retained the appearance of a man poised to combust at any second but his girlfriend's kindness had allowed some of the colour back into him. As they stepped backwards, Percy glanced at her briefly before inclining his head to the girl frozen at her side.

Ginny staggered towards the monument, her jagged movements stiff as she flexed her fingers by her sides. The ravages of the war were at once painted in her expression, features torn into a broken mask of pain no longer contained. She stopped abruptly and, at once, dropped to her knees. Unlike most in the clearing, Ginny betrayed no tears, licking her lips to soothe the words bubbling up in her throat.

"I miss you." Hermione leant nearer, the whisper threatening to be stolen by the breeze "The nightmares are getting worse. The darkness that took you isn't fading. I wish we had been able to save you."

Ginny jerked her head down, staring at the snow seeping into the fabric of her jeans. Thinking the sudden movement odd, Hermione perceived where the youngest Weasley had been looking when she had spoken. Her heart pounded in her tightened throat as she laid her sight upon Harry, a trace of a smirk marring his face as he continued to watch the girl knelt on the ground. It vanished after second, yet it made up Hermione's mind. She needed to speak to him. Soon.

Yet her first thought was to give as much comfort as possible. Marching to her, she scooped Ginny up so she was on her feet once more. Hermione tipped back, stumbling slightly, as a warm yet shivering body latched itself to her own, a head cradled on her shoulder. She wrapped an awkward arm around Ginny before remembering the others gathered around them.

Facing Fred's memorial again, she swirled her wand elegantly in the air, brow knitting a little as she concentrated on the non-verbal spell. Approval spread through her as a wreath appeared on the ground, summoning it from Ginny's room to rest against the vibrant flowers Audrey had gifted. A strike of inspiration hit, moving Hermione to repeat the spell and resulting in an Extendable Ear draping across the top of the memorial.

"Just in case you ever want to listen in, Fred, you are always welcome. I miss you too." Hermione bit her lip, sniffing back the sting in her eyes lest they overcome her. She let out a shaky sigh before steering Ginny back across to where Ron was stood.

Everyone turned to look at George as he cleared his throat, rather dramatically. Swaying towards the monument, he braced himself against it, clasping his hands against the sides as he searched the eyes of Fred's carving. Releasing his right hand, he groped around inside his jacket for a moment then took an exaggerated gulp of whatever foul liquid was contained inside his flask. George grimaced as he swallowed, running the back of his hand over his mouth and pausing once again.

"Have my last drink with me ol' boy." George proceeded to pour the rest of the liquid onto the ground before the memorial, throwing the flask away as he straightened and smoothed down his jacket "Gotta sharpen up if I have to run this business by myself. Gotta make you proud."

No trace of any drunkenness marred his steps as George pivoted and strode back in the direction of the Burrow. Like the gentle trickle of a stream, the others slowly moved to follow after him, taking the time to conclude their last thoughts and prayers. These were not only for Fred, but dedication for all of those who had had their lives snatched away from them far too soon. Hermione bowed her head at Luna as she steered Ron away, her friend again trapped in his own mind.

She made to follow after them, stopping when she became aware that Ginny remained still behind her, staring at the monument. Whispers reached her ears yet she had to take a few steps towards her, the words crystalizing as she began to make them out. A swift look around betrayed no stragglers, everyone having beaten a hasty retreat to the warmth of the Burrow.

"Ginny? What's wrong?" Hermione reached out, brushing her hand against the Weasley's arm. She snatched it back when Ginny lurched away from the touch. Briskly walking in the opposite direction, Hermione pushed herself into a slight jog in order to catch up with her.

"Just leave it." they turned through several trees as Hermione ruefully thought she needed to make more of an effort to stay in shape. Shaking the thought from her mind, she decided to attempt to reach out to Ginny for a second time.

"Please, talk to me." Ginny didn't slow. Her annoyance sparked, Hermione sidestepped, cutting across the girl and forcing her to stop.

"Fine! I just can't do this anymore!" lashing out, the redhead put her hands up, halting Hermione in her approach "They didn't die, Fred didn't die, just so I could go on living this War all by myself!"

"Is this related to what's going on with Harry?" Hermione dared to venture, alarmed when she snapped her head up sharp enough to make it crack. Ginny glared at her, searching her eyes with her own nervous ones. Backing herself up against a tree, she crossed her arms against her chest and gave a wry grin that lacked any humour.

"Is it that obvious?" Ginny spat out in a bitter grunt, squeezing her eyes shut and tipping her head back against the trunk of the tree. Hermione took a step closer, choosing her words.

"Something is happening with him, with both of you. What's going on?" she halted again when bright brown eyes focused on her.

"Nothing. Not anymore, anyway." Shrugging, Ginny uncrossed her arms to stretch them out, flexing her fingers as she looked everywhere but at Hermione "We're not together anymore. Not since we started back at Hogwarts."

"What? Why? Why didn't you tell me?" Hermione heard the squeak of desperation in her voice, struggling to ignore the pounding in her chest. She strode straight up in front of Ginny, confusion being the only thing restraining her from spilling out her feelings.

"You and Ron had your own thing going on, remember? Whenever I wanted to tell you, it just never seemed right. It was for the best, really. Take the stress away Harry. He has enough." Ginny shifted her weight, rubbing her arms as she still refused to look at her.

"I can see that makes sense. I still don't see why you didn't tell me. And Ron. Me and Ron." Hermione pinched herself in the side yet was unable to prevent herself from objecting.

"You two were too busy giving each other the silent treatment! Ron was being a horny git, and you avoided everyone. Plus everyone was still under the impression Harry and I were dating! If I told you, it would only end up with me-" Ginny clamped a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide before shaking her head furiously "You know what, just drop it. It doesn't matter. I'm heading back."

"No, tell me. I want to help you, Ginny." Hermione drove forwards, but the girl slipped past her and started jogging away from her. Infuriated, she followed after, refusing to back down any longer.

"It's nothing. Forget it!" Ginny tossed over her shoulder, slowing to a walk as she shoved her hands in her pockets and scowled as Hermione drew level with her.

"Stop running away from me! Tell me what's wrong!" grabbing her arm, she yelped when Ginny used her momentum to swing them both around. Hermione's back thudded against a tree, wincing as a spike of pain shot up her back. It was quickly forgotten as rose lips crashed into her own.

Her chest ignited with fireworks, hands grabbing straight onto Ginny's hips to hold her flush against her body. Lips danced together in an awkward clash at first, before a gentle pace took them over. Fingers tangled in Hermione's hair, tugging the unruly locks back out of the way as the kiss deepened, hunger tinging their desire.

All of a sudden time blinked back into existence and Hermione knew she had to breathe, dragging the air into her lungs in one long but wordless gasp. A chocolate gaze made her glow and she found herself both unable and unwilling to look away from Ginny. The hold on her hair loosened, hands running down until they were lightly gripping her shoulders. Breathless, a chuckle fell from the both of them.

Silence had descended upon the pair as they became aware of their surroundings, a stillness alarming with its lack of life. Hermione resisted the urge to bristle as the hairs on the back of her neck spiked up. Not releasing her embrace of Ginny, she attempted to take subtle glances around them but the younger girl caught on, turning in her arms to mimic her actions. Sounds reached them. A slow clap echoed on all sides, rebounding off the trees that now loomed all around them.

A jet of scarlet light screamed into the tree to their right, splintering the bark into shrapnel as they drove away from it. Her wand grasped in her first, Hermione shielded Ginny in mere seconds. She could hear the girl protesting but blocked her out, the desire to protect her frightening in its intensity. Choking back disbelief, her mind went blank as a figure stole her attention.

"_Harry?_"

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><p><strong>Reviews will be treasured.<strong>

**~ Nib.**


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